


Burning Out

by aldalin



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Awkward Romance, Bisexual Simon Snow, Chaptered, Dancing, Disaster Gays, Enemies to Lovers, Fluff, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, Lack of Communication, Love Letters, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Alternating, although they think it is, breakdowns, like 99 percent angst and 1 percent fluff, lots and lots of breakdowns, penny is the best like always, queen songs as a romantic device
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2020-11-08 19:57:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 25,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20841170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aldalin/pseuds/aldalin
Summary: Mortal enemies don't sleep with each other, that's how things work. So what does it mean when they do?





	1. Chapter One - Simon

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to “Bedroom Warfare” by ONE OK ROCK and it made me think of Simon and Baz. And then this was created.

_What the hell am I doing?_, Simon thought to himself. (He thought that a lot actually: when he first arrived at Watford, when he first started walking towards Baz during the roommate assignment, during every single class he ever had, and about every monster he ever fought. Actually, most of the time he asked that question about Baz, who was perhaps the greatest monster of them all.)

Baz was the greatest monster because, no matter what he did, Simon couldn’t get rid of him. Of course, the Anathema kept them from offing each other properly; but even without that measure, Simon couldn’t keep Baz from occupying his thoughts. They were each other’s worst enemies (Simon would even consider Baz his “archnemesis” if that word wasn’t so pretentious). Simon always had to keep track of Baz, to know what he was planning. He had to make sure that Baz wasn’t out to get him.

And yet, if they were each other’s worst enemy, why was Baz lying in Simon’s bed, sleeping, and wearing nothing save for his underwear?

_It was a strange situation_, Simon thought as he watched Baz’s chest move up and down softly as he slept. _I mean, I’m usually the one who falls asleep first, not the other way around._ Of course, Simon knew that the order in which they fell asleep was probably the least strange fact about the situation he was currently in, but it was by far the easier discovery to focus on. Simon, almost instinctively, reached out to run his hands through Baz’s hair, marveling at how soft it was.

The less he thought about what had just happened, the better. Simon was always one to rely more on actions than words, and he had a tendency to act before thinking. It had never gone (too) terribly, (He was still alive at least!) but he wasn’t afraid to admit that it had gotten him into some unusual positions. Such as this one.

Simon still wasn’t quite sure how it had happened. One second, he was arguing with Baz about something stupid (maybe Simon had left scone crumbs on the floor—they fought so often that he couldn’t keep track anymore). The next second, they were kissing. Simon wasn’t sure who had even initiated the kiss; it was like something in his brain had turned off, and he began running on autopilot. He only really came to after it was over. He remembered what had happened, but it felt like he had experienced it from a third-person perspective. Like it wasn’t really _him_.

To make matters worse, Simon wasn’t even able to know Baz’s thoughts on the matter because the bastard was _sleeping_. Perhaps that would make it worse, having Baz awake, but then, maybe, Simon wouldn’t be the only one dealing with it all. Besides, he could probably guess what Baz would say in the morning—nothing. He probably wouldn’t even see Baz when he woke up. The subject would remain untouched, and they would spend the rest of the year avoiding each other, probably more than they did already. As much as Simon hated talking, he hated unresolved issues even more.

And Simon definitely couldn’t tell Penny. What would he even say? “Hey, so last night I kinda slept with my roommate/arch-nemesis/guy who I’ve spent the last eight years trying to kill.” Yeah, that made it sound like a great choice. And what would she say in response?

“You’re an idiot, Simon Snow.” He knew that. Penny was the smart one in the friendship, anyway. She wasn’t the one who went around sleeping with every person who kissed her. She wouldn’t even have been in a situation where her worst enemy could have kissed her. It was just him who found himself idiotic situations, because he was an idiotic person.

Agatha was out of the question as well. They had been in a strange relationship limbo since the end of seventh year. They hadn’t talked at all over the summer vacation, and neither had made an effort to break the silence between them since the year started. He wasn’t really sure what they were anymore, nor what he wanted them to be. _I guess I don’t love her quite as much as I thought I did_, he thought, looking down at the sleeping Baz, who had unconsciously started inching closer to Simon’s chest.

The strangest—and perhaps scariest—part was that, despite all of the back and forth that Simon’s mind had been going through, he didn’t truly regret what happened. If he ignored what everyone thought about their relationship (that they were enemies) and what they thought they had to be with each other (also enemies) then the situation wouldn’t really be a problem at all. The kiss had felt...good. When their lips touched, it felt as if something had clicked into place. It was the resolution to their animosity (was it even animosity anymore?) that Simon had previously thought could only be resolved when one killed the other. (It was quite a dramatic change: kissing instead of killing. Although they were technically only two letters apart.)

A thought entered Simon’s head, an old saying: “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” He and Baz certainly were closer than friends right now. Simon laughed to himself (and then stopped because he didn’t want to wake Baz up). He lied back down on his mattresses and turned to face Baz. He could hear Baz’s breathing, a soothing sound whose presence had always helped him fall asleep. In his final moments before he succumbed to sleep, Simon thought, _This could work_.

Simon woke to an uncomfortable space next to him. No Baz.


	2. Chapter Two - Baz

Baz woke up at the crack of dawn, like always.

He heard the pitchy songs of the birds right outside his window, like always.

What was _not_ like always, however, was the suffocating heat coming from all around him. It was upsetting the balance of his universe; Baz was always so cold, so what the hell was causing this warmth? Before he could answer his own question, the offender stirred, as if trying to answer Baz’s question by asserting his existence.

Then Baz remembered. The fight. The kiss. The… follow-up activities. In the shock of remembering the night before, Baz attempted to launch himself out of the bed, which he was also beginning to realize was not his. He was stopped, however, by Simon’s arms, which were wrapped around Baz’s torso, effectively holding him back. _So even when he’s asleep does he manage to annoy me_, Baz grumbled to himself.

But Baz remembered how positively un-annoyed he felt the night before, which only succeeded in making him more bothered. He had been so hopeful then (one could also describe his emotions as “giddy,” but someone with the name Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch could never be described as giddy). Simon liked him, or, at least, didn’t dislike him enough to not kiss him. After all of Baz’s teenage angst over being in love with his roommate-slash-ultimate-adversary, maybe it could have the happy ending he never expected.

Except, after the kiss and the sex, Simon had been mostly silent, and not in his normal Simon way. When Simon was silent, you could still sense his presence. His magic, his essence, his energy—they never stopped moving, even if his mouth was closed. But the silence Baz heard (and felt) the night before, it wasn’t right. Simon had acted strangely, and it was as good as a rejection for Baz. (A straight up: “This was a mistake.”)

Baz didn’t know what he was expecting. Would they just forget the seven years of resentment between them and fall into some cheesy romance-novel-style relationship? Of course not, Baz wasn’t stupid, but he felt himself become caught in the trap of optimism that always seemed to interfere with his ability to keep his feelings for Simon in check. Every time Simon didn’t walk the other way when he saw Baz or initiated a conversation with him—even if it was only to ask Baz to turn off the light—Baz felt a tiny sliver of hope. But it never lasted. Just like it wouldn’t today.

Baz couldn’t even imagine the look on everyone’s faces if they knew about what he and Simon had done. Bunce’s head would explode; Agatha would be upset (Baz wasn’t quite sure about this assertion, though; Simon and Agatha hadn’t spoken at all this year, as far as he knew. It was another thing that gave him dumb gay hope.), Dev and Niall would probably shrug (They knew that Baz always knew what he was doing, and if he didn’t, he looked like he did.), and the Mage would issue an order for Baz’s head on a stake.

Just imagining the Mage’s reaction made Baz stifle a laugh. Thinking about a potential future of him and Simon in a relationship was something Baz had done a lot, mostly when he was younger (although he would never admit it to anyone). It was typical adolescent crush stuff, daydreaming about all the possibilities of being together. (Another thing Baz would never admit was the number of times his twelve-year-old self had entered his and Simon’s names into one of those online “Love Calculators,” refreshing the page over and over again until he received a probability he was satisfied with.)

But reality wasn’t a stupid website. Baz and Simon’s relationship just wouldn’t work in any version of the world. No matter how much Baz saw Simon through the rose-colored glasses of teenage emotion, it wouldn’t make their situation any less of a reality. They were _enemies_, for God's sake, already on two different sides of a war before they even knew each other. In the novel of their lives, Baz was just another adversary for Simon to face to reach his true potential, the villain in his hero’s journey.

And villains don’t get happy endings.

It was at this point that Baz could feel his eyes beginning to well up with tears. _No_, he told himself, _I am not going to cry over Simon Snow_. He had to get out of here immediately. He had to escape from Simon’s embrace before he let himself fall deeper into the illusion of serenity. Baz slowly moved Simon’s arms and sat up, already missing the warmth of the other person (but he wouldn’t allow himself to admit it).

Baz went on with his standard morning routine—shower, dress, go down to breakfast—in an effort to return to some sense of normalcy. Before he left the room, Baz took one last look at Simon, still asleep and tranquil as ever. He knew the peace wouldn’t last. So, Baz let himself have one final moment of indulgence before the world went to shit—or, technically, went back to shit.

“Goodbye, love.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, THANK YOU ALL so much for the love on the last chapter. It really meant a lot to me. Second of all, I wasn’t really planning on writing any else for this idea (it was originally meant to be a simple one-shot), so I’m not really sure what I’m doing right now.


	3. Chapter Three - Simon

Simon made his way into the dining hall, scanning the room for Baz. He wasn’t quite sure what he would do if he saw Baz, but Simon still wanted to reaffirm that he still existed, that last night actually happened. He had begun to doubt everything since he had woken up alone that morning. What if it had all been some elaborate dream? What if Baz didn’t really exist, and Simon’s entire life had been some elaborate hallucination? What if this was the afterlife? 

As if to prevent Simon from spiraling too far into the void of uncertainty, Penny materialized beside him (she  _ actually _ materialized; it made Simon jump back in shock). 

“Hey, Simon, so I was wondering if—” Penny began excitedly before her face shifted to one of concern. “Are you okay? You look tired. Like, more tired than usual. Did Baz do something  _ again _ ?” Penny was tired of hearing Simon talk about Baz all the time. (“You act like you’re in love with him!” she had once complained, which may have been more on the nose than either of them had known at the time.)

“Uh, well,” Simon struggled to find a lie to give to Penny, but it pained him to lie to her. “I just stayed up thinking about Baz.” Simon cringed. That wasn’t a lie, and it also made it sound as if Simon was, indeed, in love with Baz. “Thinking about his next move, you know. What he’s plotting.”  _ What a terrible save _ , Simon thought to himself. 

Penny just gave him a bored look; she probably hadn’t even been paying attention. (Did he really talk about Baz  _ that _ much? Simon was beginning to wonder if his constant obsession with Baz had been the product of something more than suspicion. Curse Baz for making him so unsure about himself now.) Disregarding Simon’s excuse, Penny continued, “Anyway, do you know—Agatha! Hey!” 

The mention of Agatha made Simon freeze. He didn’t hate her; he just didn’t know how to face her after what he and Baz had done. (To be honest, he didn’t know how to face her  _ before _ either—this just made it worse.) But Penny had called her over, and so she came. Simon didn’t know what to say—and neither did Agatha—but they were saved from talking when Penny took control of the conversation.

“So, I was wondering if either of you knew what you wanted to do for your eighth-year spells. I think I’ve already gotten mine figured out: a teleportation spell.”

“But teleportation spells already exist,” Agatha corrected. Simon hadn’t known that; he hadn’t paid attention in any of his classes involving magic spells since third year.

“Yes, but they’re usually faulty and come with unintended side effects. I want to make something that works all the time.”

“And have you done that? You scared me half to death a minute ago,” Simon added, finally becoming involved in the conversation. He could always count on Penny to distract him from his worries, whether she meant to or not. 

“Well, almost. I still haven’t gotten one hundred percent accuracy when it comes to arriving at the correct destination. I tried to teleport into the Mummers House last night, but I ended up on the roof.”

Simon felt his heartbeat quicken. Had she tried to teleport into their room when he and Baz were— “What time?” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. 

“Around ten. Why? You were awake, right?” 

“Yeah, definitely. But Baz was there, too.” Simon kept his face as neutral as possible. Agatha seemed a bit confused—and concerned—at why Penny would be in Simon’s room at 10 PM, but Simon pretended not to notice. Penny wasn’t the one Agatha needed to be worried about anyway. 

With that thought, Simon began losing focus on the conversation Penny and Agatha were having (or, Penny was having, and Agatha was merely listening to) and resumed his search for Baz. He was losing hope that Baz would even show up, which wasn’t too odd, to be honest; Baz would miss breakfast if he drank too much the night before (in the vampire way, not the alcoholic way), or if he was working on schoolwork. 

Simon was beginning to give up on finding Baz when he spotted him. Baz was sitting on the opposite side of the room from where he always sat for breakfast, as if he had been trying to hide from Simon. _So, this is what we’re doing now?_ Simon thought, _we can’t even see each other anymore?_ Before, Baz had tried everything he could to _make_ _sure_ that Simon could see him. Now, he was making sure that Simon couldn’t.

Simon had been staring at Baz for a bit too long to be reasonable, and when Simon finally realized, he saw Baz staring back at him. Baz’s face was completely neutral, (something Simon was incredibly jealous of) while Simon looked like a deer in headlights. They just sat there, staring, which created a suffocating amount of tension. The stare was only broken when Penny waved her hand in front of Simon’s face.

“Hello, Earth to Simon. What’s got you so distracted today? What are you staring at?” she asked. 

“Nothing. I’m just tired. I didn’t know I was staring.” Simon lied.

“Why are you so tired today? What were you doing last night?”

Now there was a question Simon really didn’t want to answer. Thankfully, he was saved by Agatha, of all people.

“He was probably stuffing himself with scones after dinner or annoying Baz with his sword-sparring practice. You know how Simon is.” It was the first time Agatha had acknowledges Simon’s existence in months. She had followed Simon’s gaze and knew exactly who he was staring at. But why was she covering for him? Did she know something? 

Simon knew that he and Agatha needed to talk, but he wasn’t brave enough to do it. (It didn’t even make sense to him. How was he supposed to be brave enough to save the World of Mages, but wasn’t even brave enough to talk to his own (ex-)girlfriend? He felt his heart sink when he remembered that he and Agatha hadn’t officially broken up. On top of everything, had he been cheating on Agatha when he slept with Baz?)

As if to free Simon from his spiral, the bell rang to signal to the students that class would be starting soon. Watford’s school bell wasn’t the standard annoying chime that most Normal schools used, but an old, almost-creepy-sounding church bell. Simon always thought that, despite all the modernization that had come to Watford, they still wanted to maintain some semblance of history. 

Simon said goodbye to Penny and Agatha and walked to his Greek class. When Simon reached the classroom, Baz was already there, but he was flanked by Dev and Niall, meaning that Simon wouldn’t be able to talk with him even if he wanted to. (Even if they weren’t there, the rest of the class would probably be a bit confused at why Simon and Baz were voluntarily talking to each other.) Still, it frustrated him at how much Baz was going out of his way to  _ ignore _ Simon. Even when they hated each other, they never ignored each other. 

Since he was failing the class anyway, Simon had a great deal of time to think about what he was going to do about Baz. He definitely wouldn’t be able to talk to Baz anytime soon. They shared three classes but always sat on opposite sides of the room. (And it wasn’t like Simon could just stand up in front of the entire class and yell, “Why did you sleep with me?!”) 

He would probably have to wait until the school day was over, when Baz came back to their room before he went out to the Catacombs. Of course, if Baz was trying to avoid Simon, he was sure Baz would choose to stay in Dev or Niall’s dorms. (Although students of different genders couldn’t spend the night in the same rooms, same-gender students could. Watford hadn’t really been thinking about gay students when they created the dorm policy.) Even if Baz tried his hardest to avoid him, Simon would catch him eventually, even if he had to try and cast a locating spell.

Of course, the bigger question was  _ what _ Simon would even say when he saw Baz. For some reason, it seemed like a bad idea to start the conversation with: “So, I know we hate each other and all, but I may have fallen for you a tiny bit when we kissed, and I was wondering if you’d like to try something other than being mortal enemies. Everyone else be damned. ” Simon expected Baz to kill him if he ever said something like that. No, call him an absolute idiot and  _ then _ kill him. 

Then there was that last sentence: “Everyone else be damned.” Simon didn’t really want to damn everyone else. No matter how much Simon thought he wanted Baz, he wasn’t sure how hard he’d really fight to keep him. Simon wanted Baz in secret, behind closed doors (where Penny wouldn’t be able to teleport inside). But, if he really wanted some sort of relationship with Baz, he would have to tell people, right? And Simon wasn’t sure he could to that, face the confusion—and maybe even rejection—of Penny, Agatha, Ebb, the Mage.

Oh, god,  _ the Mage _ . Simon hadn’t even thought about him in a while; he was off on one of his mysterious “errands.” If the Mage ever found out that he and Baz had slept together, Simon didn’t even want to imagine the consequences. Baz would definitely be punished, maybe even expelled from Watford, for “seducing the Chosen One.” (Of course, Simon knew that the Mage wasn’t a corrupt person who would expel someone for meaningless reasons, but Simon also knew that he wanted the Old Families as far away from Simon as possible.) At the very least, they would be separated. All the more reason for them to keep their relationship secret (if they even had a relationship—Simon should really stop getting ahead of himself). 

Simon spent the rest of the period like this, going back and forth in his mind about what he should do, what he should say, when he could find Baz, and every other possible detail of the situation. It was exhausting, but he was finally released from his thoughts by the teacher’s dismissal of class. It was going to be a long day. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter! And it’s a lot longer than the others.  
So, I guess this is going to be a full-on story now? I should probably figure out what the hell I’m doing…  
As for updates, I am not sure how regular they will be (school is really kicking my ass), so just bear with me. (But rest assured I am trying to get out the chapters as soon as possible!)


	4. Chapter Four - Baz

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m going to put a warning for this chapter for self-deprecating thoughts/internalized homophobia. It gets a bit dark near the end (when Baz goes to the Catacombs), so please be aware of that.

“Snow is staring at you. He looks like an idiot.” Dev said, and Niall pointed behind Baz as if to confirm the statement.

“So? Snow always looks like an idiot.” Baz replied disinterestedly. Still, he turned around to look at Simon. (He would never pass up an opportunity to look at Simon.) As soon as Simon realized that Baz was staring back at him, his eyes widened. _ He looks ridiculous_, Baz thought. 

But Simon didn’t look away. Baz didn’t either. He could play this game for as long as Simon wanted (whatever the game was that they were playing.) _ What do you want from me, Snow? _ Baz wondered. Simon’s intentions had always been so easy to guess, but since the night before, Baz had been in a constant state of confusion. 

Playing the part of the tragic queer teen in love with a straight guy hadn’t been enjoyable, but it had been straightforward. (It was easier for Baz to bury his feelings if he knew they would never be reciprocated.) But Simon wasn’t straight and seemed to return Baz’s feelings (potentially). And somehow, that made it worse. Their relationship was no longer the simple path it had been, just fighting until they became too upset to fight and then fighting again. 

Now, their relationship was a contradiction, an oxymoronic affair. (Who had ever heard of enemies sleeping with each other?) It scared the hell out of Baz. Simon scared the hell out of Baz. Before, Baz knew that Simon would never be able to feel the same way, and he dealt with the heartbreak accordingly (that is to say, he listened to sad indie music and ate an alarming amount of salt and vinegar chips when no one was around). 

But now, Simon had Baz’s heart in his hands, and only he could decide whether to crush it or not. At any moment, Simon could say, “Last night was a mistake. I don’t like you in that way. I’m straight.” and Baz’s world would come crashing down. It was too risky, so Baz would rather avoid Simon than have any sort of “figuring out our feelings” conversation. 

Simon had looked away a long time ago, but Baz still had his gaze fixed on Simon. He sighed, then turned back. Dev and Niall were acting as if Baz hadn’t just spent two minutes staring at Simon Snow. Baz smiled a bit,_ Bless them for always appearing as if everything was normal. _ It was a helpful way for Baz to pretend that everything was okay, even if his life was going to hell. 

🂱 🂱 🂱

Simon was staring at Baz so intensely during Greek lessons, Baz could _feel _ it. Simon’s magic felt like hot knives in the back of his neck, and it took all of Baz’s self-control not to turn around and spell him dead right then and there. (Now that was a solution to this whole relationship affair.) As Baz looked around, it was clear that the rest of the room could also feel the strength of Simon’s magic; they were all shifting around uncomfortably, some slowly moving their chairs further and further away from Simon. (Was Simon _ so _ oblivious that he wasn’t even aware of how powerful he was?)

The class was impossible to get through; Baz thought Simon must have cast a compulsion spell, trying to force Baz to turn around and look at him, but there was no way he could have (the spell was way above their level, and it was illegal). Baz fought Simon’s will the way he fought his feelings for Simon. He’d be damned if he actually let Simon (or his magic) get to him. He wouldn’t be powerless ever again. 

As the day progressed, Simon’s magic became less and less imposing (perhaps he was giving up on Baz ever talking to him), but it didn’t lighten Baz’s mood any more. In fact, it almost made it worse. It meant that Simon was giving up on _him _ as well. Of course, Baz had been annoyed when Simon wanted to talk to him, but it made him somehow more upset now that Simon didn’t seem to want to talk anymore.

It didn’t make sense. (Baz didn’t make sense; he knew that.) He knew that he was being unfair to Simon, and yet he couldn’t stop himself. Avoiding his problems until they went away had always been his way of resolving things. (Simon always seemed to face his problems head-on. It was another way in which they were polar opposites.) It had always worked out before. (In fact, Simon was the only problem in Baz’s life that had never gone away, despite Baz’s best efforts. Although, he supposed it would be pretty impossible to get rid of your roommate who was also the Chosen One.)

So, Baz spent the rest of the day trying his best not to think about Simon Snow and failing miserably (which had been the story of his life since second year.) After classes ended, Baz was able to continue avoiding Simon since he had football practice. He was grateful, not just for the fact that it kept him away from his and Simon’s room, but also because it gave him a distraction. With the wind in his hair and his eye on the ball, nothing else could bother him. 

Football practice ran until 7 pm, which meant that Baz had about four more hours to spend until the gates would lock, and he would have to return to the dorms. (And he _ definitely _ wasn't going back to his room, it was still too risky to be near Simon.) He went to the library to work on some homework for a few hours until his stomach began growling. He needed to go to the Catacombs tonight, or he might bite the next person he saw. 

Sighing, Baz picked up his books. (He would have to bring them with him; he still wouldn’t allow himself to go back to his room.) He began the walk to the Catacombs, avoiding eye contact with the librarian and anyone else that he walked past. Of course, they would have no way of knowing where he was going, nor what he was going to do when he got there, but he still couldn’t face them. _ He _ knew, and that was enough. 

The Catacombs were cold. And disgusting. And generally a place that no sane person would ever want to be around. (Baz thought it was perfect for him, though, for he was also cold, disgusting, and someone no sane person would want to be around.) It wasn’t difficult for him to find any rats; the population had thoroughly replenished itself while Baz was out for the summer vacation. He ate quickly, snapping the rats’ necks and draining them swiftly.

When he finally finished, Baz had to sit down; he had drunk too much. With his back to the wall, Baz slowly slid down until he landed on his behind and wrapped his arms around his knees. He couldn’t stop thinking about the feeling of Simon’s magic on him during class. It had invaded his every pore, filling him with the overwhelming urge to follow Simon’s will and _ look back at him _. 

He had hated the feeling. (He was almost scared of it.) He hated being powerless. Ever since that day, the fateful day when vampires had attacked the Watford nursery, Baz had never wanted to be as weak as he had been then. Look where it had gotten him: sitting in a filthy tomb, eating rats, and hating his _fucking _ life. Not only was he a disappointment to his family for being gay, now he was awarded the honor of disappointing them by being a bloodthirsty monster. 

That was Baz: the angsty gay vampire with a dead mother who (at age eighteen!) didn’t know how to get over one stupid boy. Seriously, was harboring feelings for one guy for over five years even healthy? Was Baz broken in some way? (Maybe the vampire attack had fucked him up in more ways than one.)

Simon couldn’t want him. Simon would never want someone like him. A broken, disgusting monster. Simon had probably felt bad for Baz when they slept together. Maybe he was growing tired of Baz’s endless pining and had decided to give him what he wanted in the hopes that Baz would finally leave him alone. 

Baz let out a sob, not even realizing that he was crying until that point. He was tired, and all he wanted to do was to go back to his room in the Mummer’s House. He didn’t care if Simon was there; he just wanted to sleep. But another part of him wouldn’t let him go back. This was what he deserved: to sleep in a filthy place like the Catacombs. 

Baz didn’t want to think anymore, so he closed his eyes and wished for the release of sleep.


	5. Chapter Five - Simon

Simon woke up alone again. It had now been more than twenty-four hours since he and Baz had spoken at all. (Did having sex count as talking? They had been a bit too preoccupied that night to have a proper intelligent discussion.) Simon was beginning to grow worried. Would this be how the rest of the school year went? Would Baz just ignore him forever? Simon couldn’t let that happen. They would figure this out, no matter what Simon had to do to get Baz to even  _ look _ at him. 

When Simon went to breakfast, Baz wasn’t there. (He knew definitively that Baz wasn’t there this time, he had scanned the room carefully. Dev and Niall were there, but Baz was not.) Simon tried his best to ignore his uneasiness, but time felt as if it passing slower than usual. No matter how hard Simon tried to lose himself in whatever it was that Penny was talking about that morning, his eyes remained focused on the dining hall door, waiting for the moment when Baz walked in. Penny noticed him staring but decided to leave him alone that morning. (She knew that Simon would tell her when he was ready.)

When Baz finally walked in the door, he seemed off. His hair had been washed and styled impeccably like it always was (so Baz  _ had _ returned to their room), and his uniform was neat. And yet, the dark circles under Baz’s eyes looked too dark, and his face was a bit too pale. He was like a shell; he was all there physically, but something was missing on the inside.

Simon didn’t have any time to analyze Baz’s appearance any longer, because Baz left the room almost immediately after he arrived, only stopping to grab an apple.  _ So now he can’t even stand to be in the same room as me? _ Simon sighed. He knew that nothing would get better until they just  _ talked  _ to each other; why couldn’t Baz see that? What was the saying? The secret to a healthy relationship (not that he and Baz were in a relationship, but they were in  _ something _ ) was communication. 

🂬🂬🂬

That night, Simon was woken up by the sound of incredibly light footsteps across the room. It was Baz. (It had to be. Who else would come into their room in the middle of the night? Penny, maybe, but she definitely wouldn’t be this quiet.) Simon couldn’t see anything except the vague silhouette of Baz moving across the room in the moonlight. Baz grabbed his pajamas, went into the bathroom to change, and fell onto his bed after he came back out.

It would be the perfect time to confront Baz, when he was right across from Simon and seemingly too tired to run away. And yet, Simon didn’t do anything but lay in his own bed and listen to the sound of Baz’s breathing as he fell asleep. He didn’t know why he wasn’t doing anything, even though he had waited for a moment like this for so long. In reality, he didn’t want to scare Baz away, not when he finally had him so close. 

It was better to have Baz here, even if it was just for one night. Even if he was all the way across the room, at least he was here, in a place where Simon could see him. Where Simon could watch his chest rise and fall with every breath, knowing that he was still alive. It was almost enough to make Simon forget about all the miscommunication that was going on between them. 

And even though Simon still felt a sense of urgency (like he should enjoy this moment while it lasted), and Simon still felt as if his arms were empty (and he should be holding Baz in them), he felt at peace. This moment wasn’t quite what he wanted, but it was enough. Baz’s presence, no matter in what way, was enough. 

🂬🂬🂬

Despite Simon’s newfound sense of positivity, he wasn’t able to find the right moment to (a) find Baz and (b) find a way to prevent him from running away . It seemed like every moment Simon spotted him, Baz seemed to magically slip away (whether he was just being annoyingly sneaky or was actually using magic, Simon didn’t know). This continued for the next couple days, and although Baz returned to their room every night, Simon couldn’t find the willpower to confront Baz at night. He was too indulgent not to allow himself those precious few moments where Baz was next to him.

When the opportunity finally presented itself, it took both Baz and Simon entirely by surprise. Simon had forgotten his tie, and he didn’t want to get in trouble by one of the teacher chaperones at breakfast for not having his uniform. He had been running back to his room to grab his tie, not looking at where he was going, and he bumped into someone walking in the opposite direction. Simon didn’t even have to hear their voice before he realized who it was.

“Watch it, Snow.” 

Simon spun around so quickly he almost fell over. “Baz!”

Baz turned around to face Simon, but he looked as if it was taking all of his will to not turn back around and get as far away from Simon as possible. “That’s my name. Thanks for reminding me what it was, I had almost forgotten.”

“Baz,” Simon repeated. It was so refreshing to hear Baz’s voice again; Simon didn’t really know what he wanted to say. (He had five days to prepare some sort of speech, and Simon was just standing there repeating Baz’s name over and over again.)

“If all you’re going to do is stand there and act like a broken record, I’m going to leave.”

“No! Don’t leave. I just… you’re talking to me.”

“I am. And we’re having a very riveting conversation.”

Simon frowned. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for so long. Well, only five days, really, which isn’t very long. But still, it felt like a long time.” Baz didn’t say anything; he just watched Simon suspiciously. “I’m not sure how to ask this… Five nights ago… What was that?”

“What about it?” Baz was remarkably nonchalant about the whole situation.

“What we did. We should talk about it, right? It’s not just something we can forget about, especially since we’re enemies and everything.”

Baz narrowed his eyes. “What are you talking about, Snow?”

Simon clenched his fists, almost subconsciously. He felt his magic rise up within him, leaving an uncomfortable heat all around his body. Maybe Baz felt it too; he took a step away from Simon. “Is that what you’re doing now? First, you ignore me. Then you pretend like nothing ever happened? Are you just going to play dumb the entire time?”

Baz’s face hardened, but he shrugged it off. “You’re being ridiculous.” Baz spun on his heels and began to walk away.

“You can’t ignore me forever!” Simon yelled, a bit louder than he meant to. (He hoped no one was in any of the rooms around them. The only way that this conversation could get any worse is if someone else heard it.) But Baz continued walking. “We kissed, Baz! Then we had sex! And then I held you in my arms as we slept! In the same bed!” So much for being quiet and avoiding eavesdroppers. “Doesn’t that seem like something we should be talking about?”

Baz froze mid-step, then turned around and walked right up to Simon. They were so close that Baz could have bitten him if he wanted to. “Fine, Snow. Do you want to talk about it? Are you going to tell me how much of a mistake it was? How you just felt bad for me? That we hate each other and always will and that a relationship between us would never work out? Is that what you want to talk about?”

Simon took a step back. Too much information was hitting his brain at once, and it was difficult to sort it all out. “Feel bad for you? What? Baz, no—”

“Simon, you don’t understand. It’s too much. It’s all happening too much-ly. I have to go.” Baz shoved Simon out of the way, running in the opposite direction of where he was initially heading. 

Although Baz hadn’t shoved him that hard, Simon had been so caught off-guard that he fell on the floor. He couldn’t even move. All of his brainpower was being expended trying to figure out what had just happened. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for 1000 hits and 100 kudos! I hope you’re all loving this story as much as I love writing it. 
> 
> P.S. if you’re wondering about the playing cards that I’ve been using for pauses, Baz’s is the Ace of Hearts and Simon’s is the Knight of Spades.


	6. Chapter Six - Baz

“Simon, you don’t understand. It’s too much. It’s all happening too much-ly. I have to go.” 

For someone who prided himself on his eloquence, Baz sure was terrible at expressing his feelings. As he ran, Baz couldn’t help but cringe at the way he had handled the conversation with Simon. There Simon had been, wanting to talk, wanting to resolve everything between them, and Baz couldn’t do anything but stumble over his words and run away.

It was backward, Simon was usually the one who failed to speak correctly, but now it was Baz. There had always been something about Simon that made Baz’s brain cease to function, but Baz had figured out how to circumvent that a long time ago. If he covered up his feelings with enough sarcasm and malice, he could get through any conversation without issue. (Without issues related to his attraction to Simon Snow, that is. His attitude had begun one-too-many fights between the two, which were a separate problem.)

Baz had run all the way to the end of the corridor. He knew he couldn’t go back; Simon might still be waiting for him where he left him. Even worse, Simon may be following him. And Baz really didn’t want to experience  _ that _ follow-up conversation. (If he thought the talk they just had was terrible, he would never want to live through any exchange they might have in the future.)

Baz just sat down, cursing himself for being such a damn  _ idiot _ . He finally would’ve known Simon’s thoughts (and maybe Baz could have told Simon his feelings), but Baz was such a tragedy that he ran away before anything productive could have been said. (In fact, he may have set their relationship progress back a few steps.) He just couldn’t shake the thought of Simon rejecting him. He had thought about it so often it might as well have been a real memory. 

Simon would be standing before him; his usually soft face twisted in confusion. (In this scenario, Simon was looking down on Baz, even though Baz was several inches taller. Baz’s mind seemed to ignore this fact for dramatic effect.) Baz would tell Simon the truth, spilling all the desires of his heart that he had held in for so long. Simon’s face would turn to shock and then disgust. 

Perhaps he would yell an offensive term; perhaps he would tell Baz to go to hell; maybe he would even walk away without so much as a word. But Simon would never look at Baz the same way again. And he couldn’t let that happen. However terrible their relationship was, it  _ existed _ . How would they ever interact normally if one was unrequitedly in love with the other?

And what if it got out? What would the school do? The Mage? How would Baz’s parents react? How would his mother have felt? Not only did Baz have to consider the effects of this situation on himself, but on the people around him. He would have no way of knowing the consequences if his feelings were ever revealed.

And what if Simon did return his feelings? Would they just fall into each other’s arms and have an amazing, romance-movie-worthy kiss? No. It was impossible to erase seven (almost eight) years of animosity. It wouldn’t happen. Even if it did, their families—if the Mage counted as Simon’s family—were against each other, and they probably always would be. (Baz groaned. He really didn’t want to be part of a modern-day gay Romeo and Juliet story. Especially considering the ending.)

Weighing the consequences, Baz decided that nothing good would come of their relationship, which meant that nothing good would come of them talking. Still, blurting out all of his insecurities before running away wasn’t exactly the most effective way to avoid the conversation. Baz had almost forgotten about that. He had  _ told _ Simon everything that Baz was worried he’d say. 

_ “Are you going to tell me how much of a mistake it was? How you just felt bad for me? That we hate each other and always will and that a relationship between us would never work out? Is that what you want to talk about?” _

If it were humanly possible, Baz would’ve smashed open the floor of the hallway and flung himself into the core of the Earth. He didn’t want to sound like an annoying teenager who had just embarrassed themself in front of their crush (even though that was what he was), but it was just so  _ embarrassing _ . Sure, he hadn’t spilled his deepest desires to the person he was in love with, but if Simon thought too deeply about what Baz had said, he would probably be able to figure out that Baz harbored at least some feelings for him. 

Baz was on the verge of tears for the third time that week. (Which wasn’t too odd, to be honest. Exam week at Watford meant that whoever you talked to, at least 50% of them would be actively crying.) But he couldn’t cry now, he didn’t have time. (He actually didn’t; class began in five minutes.) So, he just stood up, wiped his eyes to rid them of the tears that had started to form, and made his way to class. 

Too afraid of the possibility that he would encounter Simon, Baz took the long way around, making a detour through the window of Niall’s room to avoid the hallway in front of their room where he and Simon had first bumped into each other. He really was an idiot. 


	7. Chapter Seven - Simon

When Simon finally found the strength to stand up, class had already started. As if his morning hadn’t already been terrible enough, Simon found himself racing to the classroom (sans the tie he had initially gone back to retrieve) and being chastised by the teacher for his tardiness. It didn’t even make him upset, only because Simon was already feeling the worst he could possibly be. 

Classes passed in a blur, one after the next until suddenly the school day was over. Simon hadn’t paid attention to any of it; his mind still in chaos about the conversation with Baz. How had it gone wrong so quickly? All Simon wanted to do was talk, but they ended up yelling at each other as they always did. 

Baz always seemed to bring out the worst in Simon, and Simon the worst in Baz. Simon couldn’t remember a single moment in which Baz had either smiled or laughed in his vicinity. It was always his signature scowl and hostile eyes. Simon felt a pain in his chest. _ Maybe talking won’t work_, he thought, _ Maybe nothing will save us_.

Simon slowly walked back to his room, hoping for the first time that Baz wasn’t there as well. He had almost made it to the Mummer’s House when he saw someone walking toward him out of the corner of his eye. He sighed. Simon had hoped he could make it through the rest of the day without talking to anyone else, but it appeared that his wish wouldn’t be fulfilled. 

“Hey, Simon. Can we talk?” It was Agatha. Simon almost continued walking. (He was done with talking for the day. Maybe even forever.) However, he stopped and turned to face Agatha, trying as best he could to act okay. 

“Sure.” He forced a smile. “About what?” (It was almost ironic how he had been the one who wanted to talk this morning, but now he wanted to do anything but. Simon understood Baz’s departure a bit more at this moment.)

“About us. We haven’t really seen each other much this year.” Agatha reached out to take Simon’s hands. After a moment of hesitation, he allowed her. “I just want to know what’s going on with you.”

“I’m fine,” he replied, a bit harsher than he meant to. Agatha hadn’t done anything to him; he was just taking out his anger on her when he shouldn’t be. 

“Then why haven’t you said anything to me since the school year started? Granted, it’s been sort of my fault, too, so I can’t blame you fully. But still, I thought we were fine by the end of last year. But then you didn’t text or...anything. I was worried.” Agatha looked down at their hands, not wanting to make eye contact with Simon. 

Simon stayed silent. He didn’t know what to say because he didn’t have an answer. He hadn’t called or texted Agatha that summer, but she hadn’t really texted either (with the exception of a simple “Have a good summer” that she sent right after she left Watford). For the past few months, their relationship had been a noise in the background that they’d stopped hearing long ago. It had always been around, but neither of them were interested enough to pay attention to it. “I’m sorry, Agatha. I should’ve called. I just didn’t know what to say.”

“Didn’t know what to say? Simon, if you’re dating someone, you can talk about whatever you want with them.”

Simon frowned. He didn’t like that Agatha felt the need to explain that to him. It felt patronizing. “I know that.” He felt like a child trying to prove himself worthy. (Which, although he hated to admit it, was what he had been for most of his life.)

“Well, then why didn’t you say anything?” Agatha sighed, “Simon, I know you’re probably busy, and I can’t force you to do anything. I just… I wish you prioritized me a bit more. I’m your girlfriend, Simon, or at least I thought I was.”

“So, what now? Are you going to break up with me, too?” Simon said impulsively. It was apparent that he hadn’t thought about what he said since he had added on a particular three-letter word at the end. A three-letter word that carried so many implications, ones that Simon hadn’t meant to reveal. (He also didn’t really consider the failed conversation that he and Baz had to be an official “break-up,” but he was too upset and tired and careless to think about his words beforehand)

Agatha took a step back, dropping Simon’s hands and looking back up at him. “Too?”

Simon struggled to recover from his slip-up. “No, that’s not what I—”

Agatha didn’t care. “I’m sure that's _ exactly _ what you meant.” She stayed silent for a few moments as if she was planning her next words carefully (something Simon didn’t know how to do, apparently.) “Tell me. Who was it? I’m not going to tell anyone. I just want to know.” Simon stayed silent, mostly because he wanted to protect Baz’s privacy. (Also, he didn’t want Agatha thinking she had turned him gay or anything like that. As far as he was concerned, he was just casually bisexual.)

Agatha, frustrated by his silence, began throwing out names. “Penny?” she asked. Simon’s face twisted into confusion. Seeing this, she tried again, “Sara?” Simon remained confused. Was she just going to name all the girls in their year? She gave out a few more names, and Simon’s confused expression continued until she arrived at the right answer. 

Agatha had paused for a long time, then blinked slowly. “Baz?” she whispered, as if she didn’t even want to consider the idea. Simon stayed silent, just as he had with the rest of the names, but his eyes had changed. They looked ashamed and contented and distressed all at once. It was enough evidence for Agatha, who just looked down. “So, I guess we’re done now?” was all she managed to say.

“Agatha, no, I didn’t—”

“Simon, don’t. I have to go.” Agatha interrupted, echoing what Baz had said to him that morning, and it just made him feel worse. “I could tell you weren’t really feeling it anymore, and I really wasn’t either, so I never tried to push you. Until today. I guess I wanted to see if we could salvage anything from this mess of a relationship, but it doesn’t look like it.”

Simon didn’t say anything. What could he say? He and Agatha were over, and there was no going back. He looked at Agatha, and Agatha looked at him. Neither of them knew how to end the weighty conversation. 

“Goodbye,” Agatha said, and turned around as fast as humanly possible to walk away.

“Goodbye,” Simon replied to no one in particular.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was at this moment that Simon knew, he fucked up... 
> 
> All angst aside, I think I’ve worked out an upload schedule. I’ll probably upload once in the middle of the week (Tuesday/Wednesday/Thursday) and again on Saturday. However, don’t be too surprised if I happen to miss the mid-week update. I try my best, but my schedule can be pretty busy some weeks.
> 
> Hope you’re liking the story!


	8. Chapter Eight - Penny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new character perspective…

Something was seriously wrong with Simon, and not in the typical “moody teenager” way that he adopted every once and awhile. Something had fundamentally changed: Simon wasn’t sleeping, hardly ate, and didn’t pay attention to anything that anyone said to him, replying only with one-word answers if he said anything at all. 

At first, Penny thought he was just upset after a fight with Baz. (Simon often sulked after they argued, so much so that Penny couldn’t understand why he fought with Baz in the first place if it made him so upset. But then again, from what she had seen, Baz could be a miserable git most of the time.) However, it couldn’t have been a fight with Baz (or, at least, not a usual fight) since Simon had never been upset for this long. He hadn’t seemed healthy for a week and a half (even more if you counted the few days beforehand when Simon had been somewhat spacey.)

Then, Penny thought he might have fought with Agatha. Agatha hadn’t been sitting with them for meals lately, instead choosing to sit with some other girls she knew from classes. With the glances that she kept sneaking at Simon, Penny knew that something had happened between them. What it was, she didn’t know. No one would tell her. 

Penny had been meaning to ask Simon about, well, anything that was going on—with Agatha, with Baz, with himself—but she had no idea how to go about it. She loved to talk, and she was very skilled at it. And yet, she always carried with her the feeling that everyone was annoyed with her. Her extroversion, instead of drawing people to her, would occasionally drive them away. They were too overwhelmed with her enthusiasm and intensity, and so they avoided her.

Penny didn’t want to drive Simon away. She had wanted to wait until he was ready to talk about whatever was bothering him, but as time passed, it seemed that he was never going to share. Penny knew she needed to do something. Something that would invite him to talk but not push him away. 

That’s how she ended up teleporting into Simon’s room at 8 pm, only to end up scaring him so much that he almost ran out of the room. On second thought, teleporting into someone’s dorm room may not have been the best way to avoid pushing them away, but it was easier than sneaking past the faculty hall directors. Besides, she wanted to make sure that Simon couldn’t lock her out. 

After Simon got his bearings, he said the first full sentence he had spoken in a while. “What are you doing here?”

Penny had planned this conversation out in her head more times than she could count, and yet it was so hard to execute it. For the first time, Penny didn’t know what she wanted to say. “What am I doing here? That’s a good question. You see…” Penny trailed off, not sure how to ask Simon what was wrong without invading his privacy. She pointed to Simon’s bed. “Can I sit?”

Simon nodded, and she sat down next to him. Penny looked into his eyes. The shock from her teleportation was wearing off, and she could finally get a good look at how beat-down he looked. The light in his eyes was clouded over, showing just how little sleep he had probably gotten lately. “Where’s Baz?” she asked, looking over at Baz’s bed. She was trying to make conversation so she could figure out what she wanted to say. 

“Baz? Oh, he’s… he’s not here.” 

_ Well, duh _ , Penny thought, but she wasn’t going to say that out loud. “Now that I think about it, I haven’t seen him much lately at all,” she added. Simon shrugged.

The conversation was intensely awkward, but they had all been like that lately. Usually, Penny was able to salvage  _ something _ with her ability to talk nonstop, but now that she didn’t know what to say, there was no talking happening at all. Finally, she decided to wing it. Better to say something, even if it wasn’t well-thought-out than to sit in a terrible silence. 

“Simon, listen… You haven’t really been yourself lately. I don’t want to force you to talk about anything, but you know I’m always here for you. You can talk to me.” It sounded cheesy, but Penny really meant it, and she didn’t know how to say it any other way. Simon watched her, not saying anything. She expected him to shrug her off, saying he was fine. (He always felt the need to act okay around people, both from being a boy and from being the Chosen One. Penny just wished she could make sure he knew that he didn’t need to do that with her.)

But Simon had always been unpredictable. Instead of dismissing her offer, he leaned his head on her shoulder and began talking without pause. He told her about sleeping with Baz, Baz avoiding him, their conversation afterward, and his and Agatha’s breakup. It all spilled out of him like a fountain. She didn’t know what to say or what to think. (If it was too much for her to hear, how terrible was it for Simon to experience?) 

By the time Simon finished, Penny had taken his hand. She just wanted him to know that she had his back. It was her way of comforting him when she couldn’t find the right words. 

“Penny, I just don’t know what to do. Everyone’s upset, and I’m not sure how to undo it. I know I messed up with Agatha, and I don’t know how to make it better. As for Baz, I don’t know what’s going on with him nor how to find out what’s going on. I’m just… I don’t know. I’m just lost.”

Penny shifted so that Simon would look her in the eyes. Solving problems was her forte. She was the brains of the operation, while Simon was the one who got shit done. Clearing her throat, she began, “In all honesty, you’re completely right; you did mess up with Agatha. She messed up too, though.” Penny paused. “From my perspective, you both seemed like you didn’t care about the relationship even before it ended.” Simon looked down at his hands, embarrassed. 

Penny continued, “Still, you hadn’t broken up yet, and Agatha, although I don’t think she was too committed, wanted to see if your relationship wasn’t quite over. It still hurt her, even though you had both given up on the idea of being together.”

“But how can I fix it?” Simon interjected.

“I’m not sure you can, to be honest. But then again, I’m not sure you could’ve fixed anything before you quasi-cheated on her, either.” Simon winced at hearing the word “cheated,” but it was the truth. “Whatever feelings you two had when you got together, they faded a long time ago. My advice? If she wants to talk to you, talk to her. If she doesn’t want to, don’t push her.” 

“I just… don’t want her to hate me.”

“I don’t think she hates you, but even if she did, you can’t control someone’s feelings.” Penny put her arm around his shoulder. “You can’t fix everything, Simon. Some things, you just have to let happen, and do the best you can.” Simon’s face fell; it was a hard lesson for him to learn. Since age eleven, his responsibility had been to fix  _ everything _ ; it was his entire role as the Mage’s Heir, and the boy in the prophecy. 

Penny hoped that someday Simon would realize that he was just a boy, and that the responsibility that had been placed on his shoulders was not something he deserved. 

“That still doesn’t fix the problem with Baz. I don’t even know what he  _ wants _ ! And when I tried to actually find out, he ran away!” Simon stood up while he was speaking, shrugging wildly and then crossing his arms. 

Penny sighed, motioning for Simon to sit down again. “Baz is a different story. I don’t know him  _ that _ well, but I’m guessing you two just solve conflicts in very different ways.” Simon furrowed his brow, but Penny didn’t let that deter her. “Think about it. You’re a very ‘face-it-head-on type of guy. Baz probably isn’t, which is why he keeps avoiding you.” 

“So how do I talk to someone who's too afraid to talk to me?” 

Penny shrugged like the answer was simple. “You be vulnerable.” Simon looked incredibly uncomfortable with the idea, so Penny knew she had to convince him. “From what Baz said when you tried to talk to him—the whole ‘ _ you feel bad for me _ ’ etc. thing—it’s clear that he likes you.” 

Simon tried to protest, but she cut him off. “No, I’m right. He wouldn’t care so much if he didn’t have anything to lose. So, the only way to get him to open up is if you do it first. Just be honest. You have feelings for him.” 

“But Penny! It’s not that easy,” Simon stuttered, cheeks turning red, “I can’t just tell him all that! What if he really doesn’t like me back? He’ll hold it over me forever.”

“The question is: are you willing to take that chance? Still, I’m pretty sure he does like you. And I’m never wrong.” Penny laughed. 

“What am I even supposed to do?” 

“That, my friend, is what we are going to figure out.” Penny bounced off of Simon’s bed and walked to the center of the room. She cast the “See what I mean!” spell and began writing something in the air that Simon couldn’t see. When she finally turned around, four words hovered in the air.

“ _ Operation Win Baz’s Heart _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, a chapter that doesn’t end with someone crying.


	9. Chapter Nine - Simon

“Is that really what the name of this is going to be? ‘Operation Win Baz’s Heart?’” Simon said, eventually. Penny huffed and added the words “_ working title _” in parentheses next to her title. Simon nodded in mock satisfaction, then smiled. “Penny, I think you’ve been watching too many rom-coms. What is even the point of this?” 

Penny turned around, one hand on her hip, the other pointing accusingly at Simon. “The point is for _ you _ to figure out how to save your tragic love life. And what’s wrong with rom-coms?”

Simon laughed, “Nothing, I guess. But still, how am I supposed to talk to Baz when he doesn’t want to talk to me?”

“That’s what we’re here to figure out,” Penny replied, writing the words “_ talking doesn’t work _ ” as a bullet point under the underlined title. Underneath that, she wrote, “ _ Baz = coward _.”

Simon laughed. “Really?”

“It’s shorthand for the fact that he runs away from his problems. Or at least, he runs away from you. And you are quite a problem for him.” Penny teased. 

“So how am I supposed to face him if he’ll just run away?” Simon complained, “I can’t just wait forever for him to come around, if he ever does.”

Penny added the phrase “_ Simon = scary _” to her imaginary chalkboard. “You have to confront him.” Simon opened his mouth, about to interrupt her, but she cut him off, not having finished her sentence. “But not in a way that intimidates him. You can’t corner him in the hallway again.”

“I didn’t corner him! We just bumped into each other.”

“Whatever you did, he felt cornered. So, no face-to-face communication. For the time being.”

“So, you want me to text him? I don’t even think I have his number…”

“No, Simon, I don’t want you to text him. And why don’t you have his number? I hate my roommate, too, and I still have her number.”

“I dunno. I’ve never needed it. What would I even text him about, anyway? ‘_ Thanks for not turning me into a vampire today despite your bloodsucking urges _ ’ or ‘ _ You looked hot at football practice today. Full homo. _’”

“Do you really think he looks hot at football practice?” Penny laughed. 

“Maybe? Actually, yes. I have a perfect view of the football field outside the window above my desk. Maybe that’s why I could never get my schoolwork done when I sat there.” Simon joked, but a second later, his face became focused again. It seemed that now he was actually ready to tackle the problem at hand. “So, talking is out. Texting is out. What else am I supposed to do, write a letter?”

Penny paused, seemingly deep in thought before she perked up in excitement. “You know, that actually might work.”

“Are you kidding me? I am not writing a goddamn _ letter _ to Baz. We’re not in, like, 19th century Russia.”

“I’m being serious. It’s a good way for you to get all your feelings out without accidentally saying the wrong thing.” 

Simon gasped in mock offense. “Since when do I ever say the wrong thing?!”

Penny just glared at him. “_ Anyway _, it’s also a good way for you to tell Baz everything without forcing him to react immediately.”

“And how is this any different from texting him?” Simon interrupted.

“It just is,” Penny huffed, “Besides, letters are more romantic. It’s time we brought them back, frankly. The aesthetic of cursive. Classic ink on paper. It’s like you’re writing your husband who’s gone off to war.”

“Well, uh, Baz is not my husband, nor is he going off to war. And I don’t know how to write in cursive. Sorry to burst your bubble. How did you even come up with that premise? But I guess it could work.” Simon walked to Baz’s desk to grab a sheet of paper since he hardly ever used his own desk. When he returned to his desk, pencil in hand, he asked Penny, “What should I even write?”

“That’s for you to figure out. These are your feelings. What do you want Baz to know?”

What did he want Baz to know? That was a good question. Simon really didn’t know. He wanted Baz to see that he felt something for him. That he hoped they could form some kind of relationship from one night of chaos. It was just a matter of putting all of his thoughts into words that kept Simon from writing the letter. 

Penny was still sitting on Simon’s bed, reading a book she had randomly grabbed from Baz’s bedside table so as not to bother Simon while he was collecting his thoughts. (Simon really hoped that Baz wouldn’t walk in at that moment; Baz hated when people touched his stuff. Actually, there were many reasons that Simon hoped Baz wouldn’t walk into their room, one of those being the “_ Operation Win Baz’s Heart _” still written in the air.)

As if she was reading his mind, (and perhaps she was, Penny could be frightening like that) Penny waved her hand, erasing the list she had written from the air. She had noticed Simon staring at it and wanted to take away the distraction. “Simon, focus.”

“Right. I’m focusing.” He put the pencil to the paper and wrote the first words.

_ Hello Baz _

He then crossed out those two words. _ Too formal _, Simon thought. He tried again.

_ Hey Baz _

Simon frowned and crossed out that as well. _ Too flirty _. 

_ Baz _

He was satisfied with that. It avoided all the awkwardness of introduction words. After all the time he had spent just writing the first word, Simon began thinking about what he was going to write for the rest of the letter. It was slow work, writing and crossing out and rewriting and starting the cycle over and over again. Every once and a while, Penny looked over from her book, checking on his progress. (A book which she was almost halfway through by the time Simon had been writing for about forty-five minutes. How did she do it?)

Hours had passed. Simon’s eyes were beginning to blur with fatigue. He had already written several pages, but he still felt as if he had more to say. No amount of words in the English language could explain what Simon felt. His thoughts were too complicated to communicate to others, and yet he had to figure out how to say them if he wanted Baz to understand how much he felt for him. 

Suddenly, Simon slammed the pencil down. Penny sat up from where she had been laying down on Simon’s bed, alerted by the sound of Simon’s hand hitting the desk. He collected the papers and handed them over to her wordlessly. She read them over, like they were in one of those awkward peer-review sessions in English class. 

When she finished, she looked up at Simon, smiling. “I love it.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I'm in love with Penny


	10. Chapter Ten - intermission

_ Baz, _

_ I’ll start this off by saying that I have no idea how to write a love letter. Because that’s what this is. A love letter. Because I love you, Baz. And that’s taken a lot of courage to write down, but it’s true. I know things aren’t good between us right now, but I’d like them to be. And I think you do, too. I want to fix things, no matter what it takes. Because you’re worth fighting for. _

_ This may seem sudden, but it’s been something I’ve been thinking about for weeks since that night. It sounds strange, but I think I’ve had feelings for you since before that, too. _

_ You’ve always been a constant in my life since age eleven. And before that, my life was just a blur of endless days at the orphanage. I’ve tried my hardest to forget that part of my life. You were the first person I met at Watford, that day during the roommate assignment. Perhaps, when the Crucible put us together, it knew something that we wouldn’t figure out until much later. Magic can be funny like that, right? _

_ I’ve never known a day without you. You’re there every morning when I go to breakfast, and you’re there every night when I go to sleep. I haven’t been able to get any rest lately. I’m too used to falling asleep to the sound of your breathing. _

_ Baz, I can’t exist without you. I’ve been suffocating these past few weeks since we've been apart. And even though we always fought before, at least you were there. Just having you near me, no matter the situation, was something I needed. Without you, I’m not Simon. _

_ Because we’ve always been a part of the same sentence, haven’t we? Remember when we used to fight in first year? We yelled so much that the students in neighboring rooms went to the teachers and complained. “Simon and Baz are fighting again.” “Can someone tell Simon and Baz to shut up?” “When will Simon and Baz just make up already?” Simon and Baz. Simon and Baz. Simon and Baz. _

_ As we grew older, the sentences changed, but the subjects didn’t. “Did you hear that Simon and Baz fought a chimera?” “Simon and Baz almost fought today in class.” “Simon and Baz will never stop fighting.” It’s always been Simon and Baz. No matter how far apart we were emotionally, we were still a duo. _

_ I want that again. I want to be near you. With you. I don’t feel like a full person when I know you’re no longer by my side, literally and figuratively. Our lives have been intertwined since the day we met, no matter how hard I tried to deny it before. How hard we tried to deny it. _

_ These past few days, I’ve been able to reflect a lot on why I miss you so much. I mean, I would’ve never thought that I would need you if you ever went away. What’s that thing they say about absence making the heart grow fonder? I guess it’s true. _

_ I miss the little things that you did to exist. The small creases in your bed after you made it in the morning, the smell of your shampoo, the tie you stole from me in third year. I miss seeing you answer question after question correctly in every class we shared. (I’ll admit, I was jealous, but you looked so cool that I couldn’t complain.) I miss the conversations that we had where we didn’t fight. I know they were rare, and, in hindsight, I should have tried harder to have those kinds of conversations with you. I was too stubborn, I guess. Still, whether it was asking you for a pen or talking about a book you were reading, I appreciated those moments where we would just chat. _

_ I miss your signature “incredulous eyebrow raise.” I miss your troublesome smirk. I miss the one strand of your hair that always fell onto your face no matter how hard you tried to smooth it back. I miss that small scar on your thumb that you got when I accidentally threw a book at you in first year. (I still feel guilty.) _

_ I miss being able to look over and see you there. I miss accidentally brushing past you while getting dressed in the morning. I miss you spelling my tie so that you wouldn’t be annoyed watching me struggle to tie it. I miss seeing you at football practice out the window of my desk. I miss not being able to do my schoolwork because I was too busy thinking about you. (I still can’t do my work because I’m too busy thinking of you. But it hasn’t been as fun recently.) _

_ I don’t know what you want. I don’t know if this letter is too much. I don’t know if you’ll reject me. But, I think I’m willing to take that chance. You deserve to know how I feel, no matter how I think you’ll react to it. I need you to know. Please talk to me, Baz. I want something between us. I just need to know if you want it, too. _

_ Simon Snow _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Due to school getting in the way, I don’t think I’ll be able to upload any chapters during the week. Expect the next update to be next Saturday. Sorry for the future delay!


	11. Chapter Eleven - Baz

Baz was getting used to his new routine. He woke up every morning in Niall’s room, where he had been staying recently. Ever since the fight (could it even be considered a fight?) between him and Simon, he had been too cowardly to stay in Simon’s room anymore, even in the middle of the night. He only dared to go there when he knew that Simon definitely wouldn’t be in the dorm. (It was right after Simon went down to breakfast at 8 AM; he wouldn’t be back in the room until after classes. Yes, Baz had memorized Simon’s daily schedule. He had lived with the boy for almost eight years.)

That morning had begun like any other. Baz snuck over to Simon’s room, looking every which way to make sure that Simon wouldn’t be able to sneak up on him like he had last time. He probably looked ridiculous—and extremely suspicious—but Baz didn’t have the energy to care anymore. He couldn’t deal with seeing Simon again, couldn’t face him after he had spilled his feelings so carelessly. 

Baz knew Simon could be oblivious sometimes, but there was no way he wouldn’t realize that Baz loved him. And Baz’s heart couldn’t handle seeing Simon’s reaction to that, so he had no other choice than to avoid him. 

Making his way through the halls, Baz looked around each corner, still worried that Simon had stayed back looking for him. Baz waved away the thought. He was just paranoid. Simon didn’t care about him, obviously, they were enemies. And he hadn’t seen Simon in more than a week. Why would he be looking for Baz now? 

When Baz made it to the room, he quickly grabbed a clean pair of clothes and went to take a shower. He had moved most of his clothing to Niall’s place, but he had forgotten to wash his clothes the night before and didn’t have the mental fortitude to do it that morning. 

Surprisingly—or not so surprisingly, given Niall’s laid-back personality—Niall hadn’t seemed to mind the fact that Baz was virtually moving in with him. Niall’s roommate spent all of his time with his girlfriend, so it wasn’t an issue on that front. In the same vein, Niall spent most of his nights in Dev’s room. And Dev’s roommate stayed in someone else’s room, and so on. The Crucible had been highly unsuccessful in choosing suitable roommates, if Simon and Baz were anything to go on. 

Baz showered quickly, too scared to be lost in his own thoughts. Besides, he needed to leave this room as soon as possible. Seeing Simon’s clothes strewn around the room—on the floor, on his desk, even on Baz’s old bed—it made Baz extremely annoyed, first of all; Baz would have cleaned Simon’s mess before it became too chaotic if he still stayed in their room. And Baz couldn’t afford to think about his and Simon’s past. Everything was different now, for better or for worse. 

Wasn’t this what Baz had predicted? That his feelings for Simon would be revealed, causing their whole relationship to fall apart? Not that their interactions had been positive before, but radio silence was even worse. Baz had been such an idiot, spilling all his insecurities to Simon. He had ruined what was already broken. 

As Baz walked out of the room, he thought he saw a piece of paper out of the corner of his eye, placed slightly under his pillow. He almost went back to see what it was but dismissed the idea. _ It’s probably just some of Simon’s discarded homework _, he convinced himself. 

🂱 🂱 🂱

As Baz entered the dining hall that morning, he knew that something had changed. He felt the subtle, static prickle of Simon’s magic on his skin. He could tell just from the emanation that Simon was anxious about something. He hadn’t felt the imposition of Simon’s magic since before they had spoken. Something had happened; Baz just didn’t know what. He tried his best to maintain a blank expression and went over to sit with Dev and Niall. 

As the day passed, the feeling of Simon’s magic didn’t leave Baz alone, even when he wasn’t in the same room as Simon. Actually, it became stronger, as if it was trying to tell Baz something. What that was, Baz had no idea. But he felt that there was something he needed to see or do. Something that Simon wanted him to know. Baz tried his best to ignore it.

Eventually, Baz realized that he had forgotten one of his homework assignments when he went to Simon’s room that morning. Sighing, he headed back to the room, crossing his fingers that Simon wouldn’t be there as well. He probably wouldn’t be—he had his astrology class during this period—but the universe always seemed to have a dreadful surprise for Baz around every corner. 

When Baz grabbed the homework from the bed, he noticed the piece of paper that he spotted before. It was several pieces of looseleaf paper. Baz was hesitant to pick them up and turn them around to see what was written. He wanted to know what they said, of course, but he also didn’t want to have to deal with any possible consequences that would come from knowing what was on them. It was like Schrödinger’s Cat: as long as Baz didn’t look at the writing, it could say anything at all. 

Eventually, the curious side of Baz won over, and the “curiosity killed the cat” proverb flashed in his mind. Was he really ready to see what was written? Baz nodded, even if it was only to himself. He had to know. 

As Baz turned the papers over, he noticed two things. First, Simon’s cramped handwriting, filling several pages, addressing a letter to Baz. Second, the word “love” in the first line. Baz’s heart stopped. He read the message at lightning speed, each word making him dizzier. The corners of his mouth turned up, and his eyes widened, tears almost welling up in them. 

He didn’t know what to feel. Could it really be true? Or was it just some kind of sick joke? Baz couldn’t help but remember the faux letter he had written to Simon to trick him into locking himself out for the entire night. Perhaps this was revenge. Still, Baz had no way of knowing what Simon’s intentions were with the letter. A significant part of him believed that it could be genuine. And for the first time, Baz knew that he needed to talk to Simon. He needed to know. He couldn’t run away anymore.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! Thanksgiving break is coming soon, and I’ll be able to write a lot then, which will hopefully mean that I won’t miss any more uploads.


	12. Chapter Twelve - Simon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m uploading this a bit early because I’m excited to share this with you all

Simon had been sitting at one of the dining hall tables just before curfew when Baz came into the room. He had been reading a book, trying his best to focus on the words on the page in front of him and _not_ on Baz. He was unsuccessful. It had been an entire day, and Simon still had no news about whether Baz had read the letter. 

His mind went to darker and darker places. _ Maybe Baz threw the letter away without reading it. Maybe he threw it away after reading it. Maybe he hasn’t even seen it yet. Maybe he hates me, and he’s on his way right now to finally put me out of my misery. _

What Simon had been least expecting, perhaps, was that Baz would enter the dining hall and calmly walk up to Simon. He maintained the same relaxed demeanor that he always had and asked, “Can we go somewhere else to talk?” 

Simon didn’t know what to say. (There he was again, wanting to talk to Baz but not having any idea what to say when Baz was actually there.) He was just so shocked that Baz was initiating a conversation with him. Even before all the drama and the “falling out,” Baz was never the first one to speak. 

Simon nodded, getting up so that they could go somewhere more private to talk. There were only four other people in the dining hall, but that was four too many. They would already be suspicious enough at the sight of Simon and Baz walking together out of the room. The two of them trying to have an extremely questionable conversation (at least, questionable to the people who didn’t know of their strange romantic entanglement) would be worse. 

Neither Simon or Baz spoke as they walked back to their room. The tension suffocated Simon, so much so that he marvelled at the fact that Baz was still able to maintain his passive expression. When they reached their room, Baz held the door open for Simon and closed it behind them after they entered. Simon sat on his own bed, Baz on his own as well. Neither dared to say the first word.

They ended up breaking the silence at the same time. Simon had wanted to ask: “Did you read my letter?” but was interrupted by Baz also beginning to talk. Their intersecting sentences spooked them both into silence again. But Simon wasn’t going to let this opportunity go. It was the first time in a while that he and Baz had acknowledged each other.

“Did you read my letter?” Simon asked, piercing the silence and jerking Baz from his thoughts. 

“Yes.”

“And… what did you think about it?”

Baz was silent for a moment. Simon’s heart dropped, expecting the worst. But Baz just questioned him. “Was any of it true?”

“What?” Simon said. “Of course, it was true. All of it. Why would I lie about something like that?”

Baz shrugged, “Revenge?”

“Revenge for what? Listen, Baz.” Simon shifted further off the edge of his bed to get as close to Baz as he could. The meter of space between their beds had never felt so far away. “I meant everything I said in that letter. Every single word. And if you feel the same way, then we can talk about this some more. If you don’t…” Simon hesitated, as if the idea was too painful to speak aloud. “If you don’t, then I’ll just have to find a way to deal with it.” 

Baz looked down at the floor. Simon’s heart ached more and more for every second of silence. It had probably only been seconds, but it had felt like hours when Simon first noticed a tear fall down Baz’s cheek. 

“Baz…” Simon said softly, reaching out his hand to comfort him in some way before dropping it as he realized he had no idea what to do. They had never been in this kind of situation before. Then Simon heard Baz whisper something, so faint that he almost thought he imagined it. 

“What?” Simon asked.

“I love you,” Baz whispered, only slightly louder than before, “Oh, God, Simon, I’ve loved you for so long.” 

Simon was speechless. Baz’s voice was filled with almost every emotion possible: despair, anger, joy, and all those in-between. It was strange, hearing that much life in Baz’s usually indifferent tone. Eventually, Simon gave an embarrassed laugh, “Yeah, I think I’ve had feelings for you for a while, too. I just didn’t realize it until, well, very recently.” 

Baz smiled weakly, “I’ve known since second year. There was always something so _magnetic_ about you. Everyone’s attracted to it because of your power. At some point, I realized that I was feeling something much stronger than everyone else.”

Simon frowned, “Second year? But, I thought you hated me. You were always poking fun at something or other, and we always fought. We always fight.”

“I did hate you,” Baz admitted, to which Simon frowned even more, “I hated you _ because _I liked you. The only way I could manage to speak to you without self-combusting was to taunt you. And I know I was cruel, believe me. But it didn’t stop me, maybe because I was so insecure. And for that, I’m sorry. I thought, perhaps, we were destined to be enemies. I thought I would forever be the villain in your story.” 

“Destiny is bullshit. Prophecies are lame. Our life can be what we make it, Baz.”

“Oh, who gave you that line? Bob Ross?”

“No, myself. And it’s true. Who cares what everyone else thinks we should do? Or how we should act? The Crucible put us together seven years ago, so we at least have something going for us.”

“The Mage put us together. So that you could keep me in check.”

“Okay, then forget about that.” Simon got out of his bed and moved over to Baz’s, making sure to keep a safe distance between them to avoid scaring Baz away. Baz watched him carefully. “Forget about everyone else for a second. What do _ you _want?”

Baz looked directly into Simon’s eyes. “You.”

Simon smiled softly, shifting a bit closer so that he could take Baz’s hands in his. Baz seemed reluctant but let him. “And I want you,” Simon replied, “Can’t that be enough?” 

Baz didn’t answer, putting his head on Simon’s shoulder. They sat there in silence for a long time. The darkness in the room spread as the sun went down. Simon felt himself growing drowsy, and he could tell by the fact that Baz’s head kept drooping that Baz was tired as well. 

Wordlessly, Baz lifted his head from Simon’s shoulder, a faint indent left on his face from the pattern of Simon’s sweater. They both took off their shoes and got into Baz’s bed. They laid there, hand in hand, and gradually fell asleep. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fucking FINALLY


	13. Chapter Thirteen - Baz

Dating Simon Snow was not the magical, action-packed adventure Baz had been expecting. He didn’t even know what he had been expecting. Baz hadn’t daydreamed about the idea of him and Simon in a relationship in years—it hurt too much. When he had been younger and still had hope of eventually dating Simon (which, in hindsight, was right), he always imagined it as a dramatic confession of feelings, a “I-like-you-oh-wait-you-like-me-too” realization, always with a picture-perfect kiss.

But nothing about him and Simon was picture perfect. (Although they were plenty dramatic.) They hadn’t even really changed the way they acted since they began “unofficially” dating. They still hadn’t used any of the clarifying words yet—”boyfriend,” “dating,” or “together.” They hadn’t had any serious conversations since the one where they ended up falling asleep together. They hadn’t slept in the same bed since that night either. It seemed that their real physically romantic progress only came during inhibitionally-lowered late night moments. 

Still, things were different, and they knew that. They were okay with being in the same room again. They spoke most days, even if it was only a simple: “How was your day?” They lived off of slight touches when handing books to one another and small smiles from the safety of their room. 

Because one of the main issues was how they were going to tell other people. Penny would be fine; according to Simon, she knew almost everything already. Dev and Niall wouldn’t care too much. But would Simon tell Agatha? Or the other students around them, who thought he and Simon hated each other? Even worse, would Simon tell the Mage? Or would the Mage find out some other way? (If Baz had his way, the Mage wouldn’t know about them at all. Baz knew that Simon still valued the Mage’s opinion; his disapproval could ruin them.) 

Baz really needed to stop worrying about the future. Simon was here with him now, albeit not in the movie-magic way he had always imagined when he was younger. And Simon had asked Baz about what he wanted, without considering the opinions of others, even the Mage. Hopefully, that meant that Simon wouldn’t abandon him even if the Mage wanted him to. 

But Baz couldn’t force someone to turn against their paternal figure just to support him. He wasn’t that important. If it ever came time for Simon to choose between him and the Mage, it would probably be in Simon’s best interest to go with the Mage. He would fulfill his destiny, fighting on the right side of the war. Baz wouldn’t be able to get in his way anymore. Simon would be the hero he was meant to be, Baz just a faint memory. Baz couldn’t take that away from Simon, no matter how upset it made him. 

Baz was broken out of his self-deprecating spiral by the noise of Simon returning to their room. Baz turned back to face the door where Simon had come in, nodding at Simon to acknowledge his existence and giving him a small smile. He was about to turn back to his Runes homework when he saw Simon smile widely and stifle a laugh. 

“What?” Baz asked, looking around to find the source of Simon’s amusement. 

“You’re wearing my sweater.” Simon pointed to the sweater that Baz hadn’t even noticed he had been wearing. It had been left on the floor that morning near Baz’s side of the room, and Baz, being too tired to walk to his own wardrobe, decided to wear it. In hindsight, he should’ve known it was Simon’s; Baz would never leave his clothing on the floor like that. Maybe he subconsciously didn’t care whether it was Simon’s or his.

Nevertheless, it was still embarrassing. Baz felt his face heat up, although he tried his best to remain collected. “I must’ve picked it up without knowing. I could change if you want.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Simon said, walking up to Baz and beginning to mess with the collar of the sweater. “It looks good on you.” 

Baz knew that if he had a bit more blood in his system he would be blushing. He thanked the universe for allowing him to hide his reaction to Simon’s flirting.  _ Oh, God, Simon’s actually flirting with me right now,  _ he panicked. 

Simon’s hand accidentally (or perhaps purposely) brushed against Baz’s neck. Baz’s hand instinctively grabbed Simon’s wrist and pushed it away. He didn’t like people touching his neck. Unfortunately, Simon took it as a rejection, and his smile fell a little bit as he began walking away from Baz. 

Baz stood up, grabbing Simon’s arm and turning him back around to face him. “Wait, Simon, it wasn—”

“Can I kiss you?” Simon interrupted, eyes wide and lips parted slightly as he waited for Baz’s reply. Baz nodded. 

The kiss lasted only a fraction of a second, but it was progress. Their first real kiss, besides the night that had begun the entire relationship drama. But they still hadn’t talked about that yet. They parted, Baz trying his best to contain the overwhelming elation of his heart. A strand of his hair had fallen onto his face, which Simon smoothed for him, tucking the strand behind Baz’s ear. 

“Thanks,” Baz said.

Simon furrowed his brow, as if he wasn’t quite sure what Baz was thanking him for, but he still replied with a “you’re welcome.” They stood in silence, not sure how to proceed in such a new situation.

“I guess I’ll just… finish my schoolwork.” Baz said, turning back away from Simon. He felt that he was going to implode from all the emotions in the room. They bounced all over the walls like atoms, filling the room in hidden chaos. It was all Baz could do not to succumb to it. As he turned away, the last thing he saw was Simon’s smile fade a bit, and it hurt his heart. He didn’t know how to do this. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning that I’ll have to miss the Wednesday upload again this week. Sorry about that! I’ll have so much more time to write next week during vacation.


	14. Chapter Fourteen - Simon/Baz

Simon paced in his room, balling and releasing his fists over and over again in an attempt to quell the unrelenting anxiety in his mind. He and Baz had been “together” for three weeks now, and it was finally time to tell Penny. She had been waiting with no updates on the outcome of the letter for a long time now. It wasn’t like she had pressured him for information or anything, but Simon knew that she deserved to know, and he wanted her to know. She was his closest friend, and dating someone wasn’t something he could keep from her. 

The déjà vu hit him. Penny was the first person he told about Agatha, too. He had been anxious then as well, afraid that Penny would be upset that Simon and Agatha were ruining the three-way-friends situation that they had going on. Of course, Simon knew in his head that Penny wasn’t cruel and that she would accept them as a couple, but logic wasn’t enough to defeat his insecurities most of the time.

It still wasn’t enough. Penny had helped Simon ask Baz out, so why would she be upset at their relationship now? Simon  _ knew this _ , but he couldn’t stop his brain from undermining its own logic through dumb daydreams (day-nightmares, more accurately) of all the ways the situation could possibly go wrong.

Simon wished Baz was there, just so he could have another person to face this with him. But Baz was off telling his friends Dev and Niall, so Simon was left alone. He had already told Penny to meet him, so all that was left was to wait in agony. 

He confused himself. When he had told Penny about the whole drama with Baz—simultaneously spilling most of his deepest secrets and coming out—he had been fine. The words spilled out of him, and he didn’t try to stop them. Now was the easy part; he just had to tell Penny that the letter had worked. But it wasn’t that easy to him. He had talked to Penny before in a moment of emotional anguish; he was at rock bottom. Now, he had something to lose. 

It was another five minutes before Penny finally arrived in his room, teleporting in as she always had since the beginning of the year. Despite all the nervousness about talking to Penny, her presence still calmed Simon just like it always had. 

Penny smiled, her warm expression making Simon forget why he had even been concerned in the first place. Of course Penny would be on his side, when hadn’t she been?

“Any news for me?” she asked, even though she already knew what he was going to say.

“Baz and I are dating now,” Simon blurted, finding it simpler to shove out all the words at once rather than wait in uncertain agony any longer. 

“Congrats! So, the letter worked then, I guess?” Penny walked over to Simon to give him a fist bump, which he found somewhat awkward but couldn’t complain because it was Penny. “How has it been between you two?”

“Oh, my God, it’s been so awkward, Penny. We don’t fight anymore, but we also don’t really  _ talk _ . The only time we meaningfully interact is, like, really late at night when we’re too tired to care about our actions. And we’ve only kissed once. Once! I would kiss him every day if I could, but I just don’t want to scare him away…” Simon trailed off, worrying that he was sharing too much. (He most definitely was, but Penny didn’t really mind. This was the most exciting drama that she had been included in since Trixie and her girlfriend almost broke up the year before.)

“Are you really sure it’s just Baz that’s scared?” Penny asked.

“What?” 

“Simon, this guy has been in love with you for  _ five _ years, I’m pretty sure there’s nothing romantic you could do that would scare him away.” Simon shifted, embarrassed that he hadn’t thought about that before. “Just, like, stop being afraid to talk to your boyfriend and communicate.” She said, placing extra emphasis on the “communicate” as she gestured her hands in an exaggerated expression of frustration. 

“It’s just… we never really interacted with each other all these years of fighting. And now, we have to learn how.”

Penny waved her hand dismissively. “Listen, my expert problem-solving skills got you two this far, now you can figure it out.” Simon just laughed in reply.

🂱 🂬 🂱

“...So, anyway, I thought he hated me, and—”

Niall interrupted Baz, “Is that why you randomly stayed in my room for, like, a week? You were trying to avoid Simon?”

Baz looked down. He knew he could be ridiculous, but it felt worse to hear someone say it out loud. “Pretty much. I’m terrible at fixing things, aren’t I?” Dev and Niall shrugged. “Well, what I was saying was that then he wrote me a goddamn letter—”

Dev laughed, “He wrote you a letter?! A love letter? You’ve never written me a letter, Niall.” He elbowed Niall and spoke in a false accusatory tone. 

“I mean, I could if you want,” Niall leaned onto Dev’s shoulder, putting his hands over his own heart, “‘ _ O, my beloved Devereaux, how I yearn for thy bosom _ .’”

Baz cleared his throat, “Guys! I’m telling a story here.” They both stayed quiet and let Baz reach the end of his retelling of “The Great Simon and Baz Disaster.” When Baz finished, he sat back, waiting to see how they would react.

Niall stayed silent for a few seconds, seemingly deep in thought. It seemed like an eternity for Baz until he broke the silence. “So, one could say that you two were roommates?”

Dev looked over at Niall, his smile widening. “Oh my god, they were  _ roommates _ .” 

Baz put his face in his hands, regretting every choice he had made in the past that led him to this particular future. “So, are you guys cool with this? I assume you wouldn’t be quoting vines if you weren’t cool.”

“Why wouldn’t we be cool with it?” Niall said, a tad offended, “Live your gay life, mate.” 

🂬 🂱 🂬

Simon stood up just as Baz walked into the room, eager to hear what had happened with his conversation. “So, how did it go with Dev and Niall?”

“Good,” Baz gave a small smile and then asked, “Penny?”

“Good,” Simon replied. Baz sat down on his desk, beginning to open a textbook. Simon felt the conversation slipping out of his hands, but he didn’t want to let it end there. He couldn’t let it end there. In a moment of inexplicable courage, he began, “Hey, Baz, don’t you think it's time we go on a date or something?” 

Baz froze, whirling himself around in his swivel chair. “A date?” He paused. “Like… a date date?”

Simon smiled, “Like a date date. We could see a movie, get dinner, walk around. I don’t really care. As long as I get to spend time with you.”

“I’d like that,” Baz replied in a soft voice, the corners of his mouth turning up into a small smile. It soon fell, however, as a loud bang came from the front of their room.

“OW!” a voice shouted, which Simon immediately recognized as Penny. Her outburst almost caused Simon to jump onto Baz in fear. “Sorry to ruin whatever moment you were having, but I didn’t realize I would be teleporting  _ into your ceiling _ !”

“Penny, why are you here?” Simon griped. 

Penny flicked her gaze between Baz and Simon, eyes wide, still rubbing a spot on her head where she had hurt herself. “The Mage is back.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been wanting to make a “oh my god they were roommates” joke since I started writing this story


	15. Chapter Fifteen - Simon

Simon didn’t hate the Mage. He was the closest thing Simon had to a father; Simon couldn’t hate him. Simon didn’t hate Baz either; he loved Baz. Still, there was something about the intersection of those two things that made Simon’s chest tighten and his stomach drop. The Mage hated Baz. Baz hated the Mage. Baz loved Simon. Simon loved Baz. The Mage liked Simon. Simon liked the Mage. 

His life sounded like it came from a shitty drama novel. Simon was in the middle of two opposing forces, two walls closing in on him, and when they finally met, it would be his end. 

Looking over at Baz, he didn’t seem to take the news very well either, staring at the ground with an unreadable expression on his face. 

Penny continued, turning to Simon, “He said he wants to see you.” That wasn’t a surprise; of course he was asking for Simon. The Mage always wanted updates when he came back from his mysterious errands: updates about Baz, the Humdrum, or even how he was doing in school. 

“Right now?” Simon asked. He wanted to talk to Baz about this first, reassure him, or something. 

Penny shrugged, “You know what the Mage is like.” Simon did know. The Mage was a very efficient man: he needed everything to happen as soon as possible, precisely on schedule. If he called for Simon, it meant that he wanted to see him  _ now _ . Simon gave one last look at Baz, who still wasn’t making eye contact with him, and walked out of their room. 

🂬 🂬 🂬

The walk to the Mage’s office had always given Simon mixed feelings. In the past, when he had made progress in figuring out what Baz was up to at any point, he had been excited to share it with the Mage. He was the only person, besides Simon, who was still interested in Baz’s shenanigans since Penny had grown bored of Simon’s Baz-centered obsession. The Mage would always praise him from bringing them a step closer to defeating the Old Families. 

But sometimes, Simon was tired. Sometimes he didn’t want to think about the War or the Humdrum or what Baz was plotting. On those days, the Mage’s office felt like a prison, something that took him away from his life and forced him to become something he wasn’t: a soldier or a spy. 

This time felt like neither of the two. Simon had information; he just didn’t want to share it with the Mage. Simon hardly ever lied to the Mage, and he felt guilty about keeping this from him. He felt like he was betraying the Mage by being with Baz, like he had switched sides of the War and was conspiring with the enemy. 

He didn’t like feeling like that. Like his relationship was wrong. Like he was wrong. God knows, he had already had enough of that during his “14-year-old sexual crisis” where he finally realized he might like boys  _ and _ girls. Or when he first saw the Humdrum in its true form: him. Simon didn’t want to feel wrong, and he didn’t want the Mage to think that he was wrong either. 

When Simon walked into the room, he saw the Mage leaning over on his desk, frantically scribbling something in a book. (Penny would have cried; she considered writing directly in books to be a crime akin to murder.) The Mage hadn’t even noticed Simon’s arrival until he cleared his throat.

“Oh, you’re here,” he said, walking around his desk to stand directly in front of Simon, “Any news about the Old Families? It’s essential that we keep track of their movements, see if they’re planning anything big.”

“Nothing,” Simon replied. It wasn’t a lie; he really did know nothing worth telling the Mage. He just left out the part that he was now dating a member of the Old Families and hadn’t been focusing too much on their war strategies. 

“Hmm, okay. Any news about your roommate, Tyrannus?”

_ Too much _ , Simon thought. It would probably take him an hour to explain it all, even if he wanted to. “Not much. I haven’t seen him lately.” Now, that sentence was a big fat lie.

“Really? Do you think he may be up to something?” Simon had meant to dismiss the Mage by saying he hadn’t seen Baz, not pique his curiosity. He didn’t know how to get out of the hole he had dug.

“When is he not up to something?” Simon was never short with the Mage, but he felt too cornered. He had never had to hide such a big secret before. 

The Mage gave Simon a look; he knew something was up, but he didn’t know what. “Is there anything at all you want to tell me?” he asked, sounding like a parent who knew his child was refusing to admit they had done something wrong. (That was almost the situation, though.) 

Simon didn’t know what to do. The Mage knew he was hiding something, and he couldn’t get away with saying “nothing” again. He could make something up, or… 

“I’m bisexual,” Simon blurted out before he could really think about it. It was a truthful statement, and it was something Simon had been hiding from the Mage, so it did answer the Mage’s question. Simon just hoped that the Mage would leave it at that and not press him further.

The Mage shifted. “That’s… good. Or, not good, but… Not that it’s not good! It’s fine. This doesn’t change anything...” the Mage trailed off, turning the end of his sentence into a cough. 

“Thanks,” Simon replied, feeling incredibly awkward but relieved that the Mage wasn’t upset. He ran out of the office, not wanting to endure any more of the Mage’s backtracking. The Mage didn’t stop him. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y’all the Mage is a dick but I can’t handle coming out scenes where the kid gets rejected by their parents so the Mage was infinitesimally less of a dick this chapter


	16. Chapter Sixteen - Baz

Baz was going on a date with Simon.

But the Mage was back. 

_ But_, Baz was going on a date with Simon.

_ But_, the Mage was back and what if the Mage found out about their relationship and killed Baz or worse made him and Simon break up or what if Simon chose the Mage over him and how could Baz even ask Simon to choose him over his parental figure and what if—

“Hey, are you okay?” the girl in front of him asked. Penny. Simon’s friend. 

_ Do I seem okay? _, Baz thought. But all he said was, “Not really.” 

“Simon’s not going to leave you because of the Mage,” Penny said, reading Baz’s mind so accurately that he would be terrified if she wasn’t comforting him. “He’s not like that. He loves you.” 

At hearing “he loves you,” Baz’s heart fluttered. It still didn’t feel real. Penny’s statement, although reassuring, wasn’t enough to completely crush the doubt in his mind. Still, he appreciated her effort. “Thanks. You don’t have to comfort me, you know. We’re not friends.” Baz didn’t mean it in a rude way, just of a “matter-of-fact” way. They weren’t friends, and it wasn’t her job to help him. 

“Who says we can’t be? You’re dating my best friend. We should probably be friends.” 

“That’s true.”

“And I’m not going to give you that 'if you hurt him I’ll come for you speech,' but just keep in mind that I can teleport into your room at any point during the night and that the Roommate’s Anathema doesn’t apply to me.” 

Baz laughed, a bit out of amusement and a bit out of fear. “I’ll keep that in mind.” 

They both looked around the room, trying to come up with something to talk about. Finally, Penny’s gaze fixed upon a book on Baz’s bedside table. 

“You’re reading _ The Throne of the Damned _ ?!” she asked wildly. “I _ love _Megan Charleston’s books. I haven’t read it yet, is it amazing? 

“So far, yeah. I—”

“Don’t spoil it! I’m still in pieces after the ending of the first book. What does Alex do after he leaves the demon kingdom? I need to know!” Penny cried, shaking her hands in a dramatic pleading fashion towards the sky. 

“You can borrow my copy after I’m done.”

“Thank you so much!” Penny continued talking, but Baz didn’t hear what she was saying. He was lost in his own thoughts. He smiled to himself, glad to have made another friend. 

🂱 🂱 🂱

Baz couldn’t stop stressing about his date with Simon. He hadn’t ever gone on a date before. (Unless flirting with someone for a few hours at a club and making out in the bathroom counted as a date. Then he had been on far too many.) But he was about to have one _ tonight _. With Simon fucking Snow. 

They had planned to go to a restaurant in the city just next to Watford. It wasn’t a fancy restaurant, but it was fancier than Nando’s. It was a cozy place; Baz had chosen it. He remembered going there with his parents when he was very little, and he hoped that Simon would like it. 

They would have to sneak out. Baz had been at football practice until 7 PM, and curfew was at 8 PM. Baz hoped they wouldn’t have to spend the entire night freezing outside of the gates of the school. 

At the moment, they were both getting ready for their date. It was somewhat unorthodox; they didn’t have the whole “being amazed at how beautiful your date is when you come to pick them up” type of thing. Instead, Baz had the privilege of watching Simon trying to comb his hair, desperately wanting his curls to cooperate so that they wouldn’t be the bouncy mess that they always were. Eventually, he gave up. Baz liked his hair better down anyway. 

Baz was in the middle of deciding what to wear. “Do you think it’s weird if I ask my date what I should wear on a date?” he asked Simon, breaking him out of his hair-frustration trance. 

Simon walked over to Baz’s closet to evaluate the options. “Baz, you have so much clothing. And for what? We wear uniforms almost every day.”

Baz shrugged, “Just in case.” 

“I have, like, one pair of clothing that could pass as being fancy.” Simon stroked his chin, deep in thought at Baz’s potential outfit options. He took a few items off of the hanger, held them in front of Baz, and shook his head, putting each one back. “Yeah, I have no fashion sense whatsoever. Just wear whatever you want, you look good in everything.” 

“Thanks so much for your help,” Baz replied sarcastically. Simon just rolled his eyes and smiled. Eventually, Baz went for a simple white button-down and black jeans. It was simple, and he didn’t have to stress over whether it looked good. He knew it did. 

After outfits had been chosen and hair had been done (or left alone in Simon’s case), it was finally time to leave. It was about fifteen minutes before curfew, so they wouldn’t have to deal with faculty wandering around the hallways making sure that everyone was in their rooms. They took the back way, avoiding the desk of the hall director who would definitely ask them what they were doing. Together. Not dressed in school uniforms. 

They walked all the way across the school, hiding whenever they saw other students or teachers, and arrived at the parking lot. Unfortunately, Baz’s school-assigned parking spot was the furthest one away from the parking lot’s entrance, which meant they had to walk still further to finally reach Baz’s car. (It took them longer to cross the parking lot than it did to walk to it in the first place; that’s how far away the spot was.) 

After the journey across the parking lot, the drive to the restaurant was uneventful but still nice. There was a tiny bit of panic at hearing how loud Baz’s car was when it was turned on, how the sound of the engine cut through the uncomfortable silence of the night. Baz had a CD in, _ Queen’s Greatest Hits _, and he sang along to the songs as he drove. Simon was embarrassed; he only knew “Bohemian Rhapsody.” 

Another song came on, to which Baz commented, “This is my favorite song.” 

Simon smiled. It sounded nice, but it didn’t seem like the kind of song Baz would like. He had always imagined Baz as someone who listened to straight-up classical music, so a rock band like Queen surprised him. “What’s it called?”

“‘Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy,’” he said, before continuing to sing, "_I'd like for you and I to go romancing. Say the word, your wish is my command._"

“I like this song, too,” Simon said. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to https://blog.reedsy.com/book-title-generator/fantasy/ for giving me a made-up book for Baz and Penny to talk about.
> 
> It isn’t a fanfiction without an iconic romance song. (Obviously, thank you to Queen for the “Good Old Fashioned Lover Boy” lyrics. And thank you to Freddie Mercury for my life.).


	17. Chapter Seventeen - Simon

Simon had fallen half-asleep listening to the sound of the car. He felt the car stop and jerked awake. When he turned to open the door, Baz quickly said, “Wait,” put his hand on Simon’s arm to still him, and exited the car.

Baz walked around the car to open Simon’s door, sweeping his hand to gesture Simon out of the vehicle. 

“What was that?” Simon said as Baz shut the door behind him. 

“I thought it’d be romantic,” Baz said, frowning.

“Oh, it was  _ so _ romantic, thank you, dear.”

“Okay, you are not calling me 'dear.' I’m putting a stop to that one immediately.” They laughed together, quieting down as they walked into the restaurant. Continuing his gentlemanly streak, Baz held the door open for Simon. Baz also spoke to the waitress, who escorted them to their table. 

It was a table in the middle of the room. Simon looked longingly at one of the booths to the right of him. (Booths were by far the superior seats at restaurants.) But they sat down, and the waitress handed them their menus. It was all very surreal. Between the orphanage and Watford, Simon had only gone to a real restaurant once before, when the Mage had first picked him up from the orphanage. 

Needless to say, Simon was completely overwhelmed at the number of orders. It was almost five whole pages of menu, no pictures or anything. As if it couldn’t get any worse, the waitress came over again with a wine menu after she saw Simon and Baz’s IDs. 

“We’re getting wine?” Simon asked.

“Yes,” Baz replied, with an upturn in his voice as if the idea of  _ not _ getting alcohol was unfathomable. “Again, it’s  _ romantic _ . Please tell me you’ve drunk alcohol before.” 

Simon blinked. He had not, in eighteen years of life, ever consumed alcohol. How lame was that? He had slain dragons, but never gone to a party and gotten drunk. Were there even parties at Watford? If there were, he wasn’t invited. “Is it uncool for me to say that I haven’t? Being  _ the Chosen One _ ,” Simon did a dramatic hair flip to make up for his insecurity, “is more time-consuming.” 

“Well, we can’t all be as utterly important to the survival of the World of Mages as you. Some of us just go to clubs instead of fighting a manifestation of our eleven-year-old self.” Baz replied, although there was no malice in his voice. 

When the waitress came back, Simon still had no idea what to order. He had been too focused on their conversation. Baz ordered the wine (with some fancy Italian name) and his food (some pasta). 

“Hold the garlic, though,” he added. Simon had to hold in laughter while he ordered the same food as Baz. (He didn’t even bother trying to look through the menu.) After the waitress walked away, Simon let the laugh out. 

“Did you seriously just ask for no garlic?”

“Yes, and  _ don’t laugh _ . I just don’t like garlic.”

“Hmm, I wonder why,” Simon replied. They were silent for a few seconds until Simon looked down in embarrassment, “Is it weird if I say that I’ve never really been to a restaurant?”

“What the hell?”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… at Watford, there’s always food. And the orphanage doesn’t let us go anywhere over the summer. I went with the Mage once, when I was eleven…”

“When you were  _ eleven _ ? You haven’t been to a restaurant in seven years? All the amazing food you’ve missed out on! The awkward family dinners! The football team celebrations where you felt super left out because everyone has friends except you!”

“I don’t think that last one is universal.”

“You haven’t been to a restaurant! How would you know?” Baz retorted a bit too loudly but quieted down as he realized that an old couple was staring at him. “Seriously, though, how badly has the Mage been treating you that you haven’t ever been out to eat…”

Simon felt a wave of anger, a need to defend the Mage. “The Mage just doesn’t have time.”

“I guess he should make time, then.”

Simon frowned. “It’s not that simple. I’m not his only priority. He’s got to manage Watford, the Humdrum attacks, fighting with  _ your _ family—”

“Ah, yes, it’s always the damned Pitches getting in the way of the Mage and his heir! I’m  _ so sorry _ for bothering you with my existence!”

“Wait, you know that’s not what I—”

“Then what did you mean?”

Simon sighed. His magic began to flare up, affecting the Normals in the room. Usually, they couldn’t feel magic unless it was directed at them, but Simon was just too powerful. And his magic was terribly uncomfortable; the people in the room were shifting away from him. Baz had only moved closer. “I don’t know. Why are we fighting?” he said. Then, under his breath, he added, “ _ Why do we always fight _ ?”

“Now that you ask, I actually cannot remember,” Baz said, not having heard Simon’s second comment. “Hey,” he added in a softer voice, ”I’m sorry.” He held his hand out across the table for Simon to take. 

Simon did, although he threw a quick look to make sure no one was watching them. It wasn’t that he was insecure (okay, he definitely was) but he just wasn’t used to being gay in public. Realizing you’re gay and actually making it clear to other people were two different worlds. The information wasn’t his anymore. Anyone in the room could look at him and Baz, holding hands, and form a completely different opinion about them than they would have five seconds ago. It scared Simon, how much it meant to take Baz’s hand. 

“I’m sorry, too. We just… fell back into old habits, I guess.”

“Yeah, well, that’s one I’d like to break,” Baz replied, letting go of Simon’s hand only because the waitress had finally come with their food. 

The food and the wine were fine, although Simon became incredibly distressed at how  _ bad _ alcohol tasted. 

“How can people drink this?” he asked. Baz just smiled and said, “You get used to it.”

Baz seemed to like the dinner itself more than Simon did. “Because of nostalgia,” he said. He used to come to this restaurant with his family a lot. Simon’s heart was full, knowing that Baz had taken him to a place so special to him. 

At some point while they had been eating, a piano player had arrived and settled in the room next to Simon and Baz, but they hadn’t really noticed the music until they finished eating. The restaurant had cleared a space out next to the piano, and several couples had filled it, dancing. 

Simon hadn’t paid the dancefloor much attention, but Baz seemed to glance at it every so often, then looked at Simon. He cleared his throat, “Do you wanna dance?”

“You asking that brought back memories to those godforsaken Watford dances they made us go to in third year. Do you remember those?”

“I remember not going to those because I was sad I wasn’t brave enough to ask you out.”

“Well, I did go. Hannah Williams asked me to dance, and I stepped on her foot so many times she told me to  _ stop  _ dancing with me. It was a nightmare. I mean, what are they expecting when they put a hundred thirteen-year-olds in one room?”

Baz nodded in reply to Simon, but stood up and held his hand out for Simon to take and dance. Simon hesitated. He couldn’t help it. Holding hands across a table was one thing; dancing was a whole other. Perhaps if they were alone in their room, he wouldn’t care at all. But they weren’t. And the old couple at the table next to them was staring at them again. 

But what did Simon say to Baz? “ _ Forget about everyone else for a second. What do you want? _ ” And what did he want? He wanted to dance with Baz, and who was going to stop him? He was a goddamn  _ wizard; _ what did he care about what Normals thought? (Not that Normals were bad or anything, but he could definitely take that old couple if they dared to comment on him and Baz.) 

With his newfound determination, Simon took Baz’s hand, perhaps a little too intensely. Baz walked him to the dancefloor, and asked him, “Do you even know how to dance?”

“In theory? Yes. But I’m terrible at actually dancing. No hand-eye coordination.”

Baz frowned, “You’ve slain a chimera. How can you not have hand-eye coordination?” At hearing this, a man and woman dancing near them looked over in extreme confusion. (They really should be at least  _ trying _ to be less noticeable.) 

“You know, that’s a good point, but I still can’t dance.”

“It’s okay. I’ll help you. I took a dance class, you know. I’m a professional.”

“I’m sure you are.” Simon said, looking to begin dancing before realizing that he didn’t know where to put his hands. “Wait, who’s going to be the guy and who’s going to be the girl?” he asked, foolishly, referring to hand placement. He soon realized the potential misinterpretation of his words, given a different context, and began blushing.

Baz realized this, too, and replied, “I’ll lead. We’ll figure it out.” Simon hadn’t realized just how suggestive waltzing could be. Baz put his hands on Simon’s waist, and Simon put his hands around Baz’s neck. “So, just follow my feet. If I step backward with my left foot, you’ll step forward with your right.” Baz stepped back with his left foot, then moved his hand away from Simon’s waist to touch the leg he was meant to move. Simon did. “See?”

“And if I move to the side, you just follow me in the same way,” he added, moving his right foot out to the side. Simon followed again. 

Simon ended up spending so much time worrying about where to move his feet that he didn’t even care if anyone was watching them. It looked easier than it was. He knew which foot to move, and where, but his brain wasn’t used to the rhythm yet. He kept getting stuck, falling a second behind Baz, and messing up the dance. 

None of the other couples had this dedication to proper dancing, with most of them just gently swaying in each other’s arms. But Simon wanted to dance,  _ dammit _ , and he wasn’t going to cheat by making it easy. Like Baz had said, he could fight a chimera. Dancing was nothing. 

Baz was a good teacher, very methodical, if a bit frustrated at times. He explained everything carefully, and was patient when Simon messed up, but Simon could tell that Baz would be better suited with a dance partner more advanced than him. 

Eventually, he got the hang of it. Perhaps not the whole hang, but a sufficient amount to dance without constantly having to stop. It was at this point that Baz began throwing some challenges his way, spins and whatnot. Even when he messed up, Simon still had fun. 

Eventually, Simon checked the time. It was almost an accident; he had glanced over at the clock on the wall of the restaurant and realized how late it was. It was nearing midnight, and, no matter how magical the night was, he and Baz had to return before their carriage turned back into a pumpkin. (Or, in their actual scenario, before the Watford gates closed for the night, and they would have to wait until morning to be let in again.)

Simon got Baz’s attention, who had become lost in the routine of the dance, and they left. They drove home with little to report, although Simon continually checked his watch to ensure that they wouldn’t be late. 

When they arrived back at Watford, Baz actually spelled a car out of its parking spot so he wouldn’t have to drive all the way to the end of the lot. They ran back to the gates. Simon pushed them open, and he and Baz filed in, laughing, holding hands. The adrenaline from rushing home and the joy from dancing were still with them, making them almost drunk on happiness. (And also slightly drunk from the wine in Simon’s case.)

But then they heard movement coming from just behind the gates, right next to where they had just walked through, and it made them immediately sober.

“Well, this is a surprise,” came a familiar voice, so recognizable that Simon’s heart dropped. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Not drinking alcohol does not make you lame; Simon is just an insecure teen. Don’t drink, kids.
> 
> Consider this chapter as the calm before the storm. (We're actually nearing the end holy shit!!!!)


	18. Chapter Eighteen - Baz

Both Simon and Baz turned around quickly. Baz couldn’t make out the figure that had spoken, but he recognized the voice immediately. It was such a terrible situation that his heart could hardly believe it was real. 

The Mage stepped out of the shadow of the Watford walls, and Simon dropped his hand so quickly it was like Baz had burned him. And perhaps he had, his first instinct had been to attack, and he soon summoned a flame in his hand. Merely as a warning. 

The Mage eyed Baz’s fire, and so did Simon, who glared at Baz. Baz extinguished the fire. It wasn’t as if he was actually going to  _ hit anyone _ with it. 

“Simon, I have to say, when you came out, this is the follow-up I was least expecting,” the Mage said, laughing as if he had been trying to make a joke. Baz looked over at Simon, raising one eyebrow, asking  _ why _ Simon had come out to the Mage. Simon shrugged slightly, then turned back to face the Mage. No one knew what to say, and, if he weren’t feeling absolutely terrified, Baz would have cringed at the awkwardness. 

Baz knew that nothing they could say would fix the predicament they were in. The Mage had seen them acting all lovey-dovey; he knew they were together. Simon, however, tried to remedy the situation the way Baz had tried to remedy his unrequited feelings for Simon: straight-up denial. “Sir, it’s not what you think—”

“I think we’re past backtracking at this point, Simon,” the Mage said before Simon could finish. For once, Baz agreed with him. It hurt, thinking that Simon could rush to deny their relationship. Like he was rejecting Baz. 

Simon didn’t try to fix the situation anymore. He looked down. Baz couldn’t think of anything to say either, given the fact that he expected the Mage to kill him the second he moved. The Mage continued talking, the shadows of the night making him look as if he was giving a villain's monologue. (Although, Baz thought that metaphor was somewhat accurate.)

“Allow me to explain what I just saw, and you two can help me understand. The savior of the World of Mages is having a rebellious teen love affair with a vampire who comes from a family that I am currently fighting a war against. Is that correct?” Baz probably would have laughed if this situation was happening to anyone but him. Simon didn’t speak to the Mage, didn’t nod, didn’t even dare move. He stared at the floor, fists balling up, and a gaze filled with anger. Anger at Baz, anger at the Mage, anger at himself; Baz didn’t know. 

The Mage understood the meaning of their silence. “I’ll take that as a yes. Then, let me pose a question,” he said, walking up to Simon and grabbing him by the collar. Baz instinctively tried to move closer, as if he could protect Simon against the most politically powerful mage in the European world. He found that he was blocked by something. The Mage had frozen him in place, probably having said a spell under his breath; Baz could look around but couldn’t get any closer.

“Now, Simon, of all the people in the world, why would you ever think to choose  _ him _ ?” the Mage asked, throwing every ounce of hatred into the word “him” as he pointed at Baz. 

Simon’s eyes were wide, and every second that Simon went without answering undermined Baz’s hope more and more. Baz could feel Simon slipping out of his fingers. Now was when Simon would realize that he didn’t love Baz; that he was more trouble than he was worth.

Simon would choose his responsibilities—and the Mage—over Baz. Which, Baz knew, was what he should do. It was in his best interest to leave Baz and stay on the morally correct side. All Baz could give him was his own demons, and he didn’t want that for Simon.

Baz had known for a long time that he didn’t deserve Simon; he merely ignored that fact. Simon didn’t eat rats in a tomb every week. Simon didn’t ruin people’s lives by stealing their voices. Simon wasn’t unnecessarily cruel to everyone that tried to help him. Simon didn’t deal with his unrequited feelings by trying to kill—or, at the very least, injure—the person he was in love with. 

Simon Snow’s name was a perfect description; he was fresh morning snow, pure and righteous. The hero with a strong moral code. And Baz had fallen in love with him. But untouched snow would be ruined once one fell on it. 

Simon’s magic burned, and Baz could wield fire. They wouldn’t work,  _ couldn’t  _ work. There existed no balance between them. Instead, they only served to set each other off, feed the other’s fire, which they had done constantly over the years that they had known each other. 

But all that fire meant that one day they would burn out, for such was the tragedy of Simon and Baz. 

Baz’s mind returned to the scene before him when he heard a small whisper come from Simon. He couldn’t make out what Simon had said, but it was presumably an answer to the Mage’s question:  _ Why Baz? _

“What was that?” the Mage snapped, shaking Simon as if it would get the answer out of him.

“I love him,” Simon said in a weak voice. 

“You don’t love him,” the Mage said in disgust, throwing Simon down onto the ground. Baz tried again to break the barrier between him and Simon, but it was useless. The Mage continued, “You love the  _ idea _ of him.” Simon sat up, his magic flaring out of him in anger, but one look from the Mage deterred Simon from retaliating. 

“I know you, Simon. Better than you know yourself. Baz is nothing more than an attempt at teenage rebellion from you. A way for you to escape your responsibilities as the Mage’s Heir. You do  _ not _ love him.”

“I do,” Simon said, stronger this time, “And I’ll say it as many times as it takes for you to believe it.  ** _I love Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-fucking-Pitch._ ** ” Simon had managed to infuse magic into the last sentence, pushing the Mage back and breaking the barrier placed between him and Baz. 

Baz ran over to Simon, taking his hand and squeezing it once before dropping it so that they could face the Mage. The Mage, unable to convince Simon, directed his next verbal attack to Baz, “What have you done to him?”

“He hasn’t done anything to me,” Simon said, taking a step forward so that he could be in front of Baz, as if he was protecting him from the Mage’s words. “Sir, don’t make me do this. Choose between you two.”

“Oh, I’m not asking you to choose. I’m asking you to snap out of whatever fantasy you’re in that makes you think that this can happen. That you could care for someone like him.” The Mage turned, his hand going for the sword at his side. 

“ ** _Stop!_ ** ” Simon shouted, and the Mage found himself unable to move. Baz couldn’t help but marvel at Simon’s power. He could speak reality into being, make the world bow to his every whim. And yet, he only used his powers to help others, never to usurp his own rule.

The Mage struggled but couldn’t break free from the spell. “Simon, now you’re just being ridiculous—”

“ ** _I’m doing the talking now_ ** ,” Simon interrupted, and soon the Mage found himself unable to speak either. “I’m not going to choose between you and Baz, between him and being the Chosen One. This isn’t a good versus evil situation. Baz is his own person, and he’s not going to corrupt me like I’m some kind of delicate flower. I can make my own damn choices. Are we clear?”

The Mage, unable to reply or move, had no choice but to stay silent. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Simon said, turning the Mage’s words against him. Weaponizing language even without magic. And, like every badass hero before him, Simon turned around dramatically and began walking away, leaving the Mage frozen.

Baz started to follow him, not daring to say anything for fear of disturbing Simon in some way. He should have, if he was a decent person, just continued to walk forward. But, luckily, Baz was not a decent person. He turned back around and gave the Mage a classic two-fingered salute. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The “two-fingered salute” is referring to the British version of the middle finger,,, not the military salute haha
> 
> Probably not going to have time to do a Wednesday update for these next two weeks. It’s exam time and I’m dying!!
> 
> Also, I’ve been thinking about changing the title of this fic. What I expected it to be vs. what it ended up being are VASTLY different. (Perhaps when all the chapters are uploaded.)


	19. Chapter Nineteen - Simon/Baz

As Simon walked away from the Mage, his mind was in shambles. Well, perhaps not in shambles, because it could still form one coherent thought:  _ What the hell just happened? _ Did he really just do that? Perform magic like that? It wasn’t possible, and yet he had done it: spoken magic into words. Without even meaning to. And he had controlled the Mage. They could arrest him for assaulting an official, and that was if he was lucky. Being hunted down by the Mage’s Army was more likely.

Simon rounded the corner and collapsed against the wall, head in his hands, trying to block out the world. Baz approached him, slowly, as if Simon was a grenade ready to go off at any moment. 

“Are you going to leave the Mage like that? Because I have to admit, he looks pretty stupid being all frozen like that.” Baz laughed, attempting to lighten the mood or comfort Simon or do  _ something _ that would help the situation.

“What do you care?” Simon replied, needles in his tone. Perhaps humor wasn’t the best route for Baz to take. “Besides, if I knew how to, I would.”

“If you knew how?” Baz couldn’t fathom the idea of not knowing how to do magic. You just did it. Magic came out of Baz like a current, controlled and constant. Simon, on the other hand, felt his magic come out like fireworks, chaotic and dangerous when one was too close. 

“Yes, Baz,  _ if _ . I’m not a skilled mage like you. I can’t do magic the right way—can’t do anything the right way. And now, the Mage… he’ll probably…” Simon cut himself off; he didn’t want to think about what he had been about to say. 

Baz moved closer to Simon, sitting down next to him but still not touching him. He didn’t want to admit that he was scared—he thought he could never be scared of Simon—but he wasn’t quite sure what he was even thinking in that moment.

“Simon, what you did was the most complex magic I’ve ever seen.”

“But what does it matter if I can’t control it?” Simon’s voice cracked on the word “control,” and Baz’s heart shattered. “I shouldn’t be the one with all of this power. It should be you, or Penny. Someone who actually knows what the hell they're doing.”

“You can’t seriously be complaining about being the most powerful mage in history,” Baz moved away from Simon, frowning, “You can make any word into magic! You could take over the damn world if you really wanted to!” The glint in Baz’s eye as he spoke unnerved Simon. 

“I don’t want to take over the world, Baz. I don’t want to do anything with my powers! If you want them, then please take them!” Simon pleaded, taking Baz’s wrists, breaking Baz’s self-imposed barrier between them. Simon’s voice became higher, a side-effect of his desperation. “I didn’t ask to be the Chosen One,” he added quietly. 

“Simon, you know I can’t…” Baz said, pulling his hands out of Simon’s. He was struggling; Baz knew that Penny would be much more useful in a situation like this. Simon knew it, too, but he knew that not even Penny could know the real reason why he was so alarmed. 

The truth wasn’t that Simon lost control of his powers, but that he had known  _ exactly  _ what he was doing when he spelled the Mage

Simon wasn’t afraid of his magic; he was afraid of himself. And what he could do with that magic when  _ he _ got out of control. But he couldn’t tell Baz that. Or Penny. Or anyone. Ever. Because how would they see him after that? If they knew that he didn’t have control of himself. That he could hurt people. (Had he wanted to hurt the Mage? He couldn’t even remember. But Simon was pretty sure he would have if the Mage had gotten any closer to Baz.)

Simon could feel Baz’s fear. He felt the way that Baz had flinched when he grabbed his wrists, the way he pulled them back. He knew that Baz was afraid of him, of what he could do. But maybe, if Simon could convince Baz—and possibly himself—that it was all out of his control, maybe then he wouldn’t lose Baz again.

Simon looked over at Baz, trying to remember every inch of his face in case there ever came a time when he wouldn’t get to see it again. His gray eyes, dull when one first looked at them but which contained multitudes of hues when one was up close. The small bend on his nose, inflicted by Simon one day in the middle of another fight. Simon couldn’t remember what had led to the argument, nor why he attempted and failed to cast a “ _ **Break a leg!** _ ” spell.

If Simon were an artist, he would have loved to draw a portrait of Baz. His face would take years to understand, the way it carried a slight sadness even through Baz’s signature frown. Simon would never have enough time to take it all in. 

He reached up to take Baz’s face in his hands, so exhausted from his magic that he was somewhat unaware of what he was doing. Baz let him, but had to ask, “Uh, Simon, what are you doing?”

“Just appreciating your face.”

Baz stammered, “O-okay, but just a few minutes ago, you were crying. Are you good now, or..?” Baz cringed at his complete lack of emotional intelligence. The only person he’d ever had to comfort was himself, and he usually went about that by telling himself to “get over it” because he was “above crying about Simon Snow.” (It never really worked, anyway.) 

Still, Simon appeared to be fine. (Appeared.) His hand had found its way into Baz’s hair, where he was curling a piece around his finger over and over again. Methodically, like he was doing it to distract himself. Baz allowed him to continue for a few more seconds (although he could have stayed there for days) before carefully placing his hand on Simon’s and detangling it from the strand of hair. 

“Come on, it’s late. Let’s get back to our room.” Baz told Simon, getting up as he also helped Simon stand up. 

They had only made it a few steps when Simon stopped, looking down at the ground with a terrifyingly empty expression. He spoke in a low voice, not a whisper yet it was still barely audible, “If I ever did something horrible, do you think you could still love me?”

Baz had no idea how to answer. He couldn’t figure out the reason behind the question, nor what Simon wanted him to say. So Baz did what he did best: ignored the problem. Baz just took Simon’s hand, squeezed it once, and replied, “You need to sleep. You’re not thinking straight right now.” 

He hoped that Simon would forget the question in the morning. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate chapter :o 
> 
> Also heads up I’m planning to change the title of this fic to “Burning Out” once I finish it, so be aware of that in case you try to find it.


	20. Chapter Twenty - epilogue

Simon didn’t forget about the question in the morning. Nor the day after, or the week after. Not even in several months.

Graduation was fast approaching, and Simon hadn’t used magic since that night. Not in his classes, not even for menial tasks. It was killing his grades, but Simon didn’t much care for them anymore—senioritis and whatnot. 

Simon just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He feared that using magic would open a door he shouldn’t enter. That he might become addicted to his powers—to the power they gave him. An urge to rule that he wouldn’t be able to rid himself of. 

Instead, Simon decided to become the ultimate failure of a Chosen One. A foretold prophecy too afraid of himself to do anything meaningful. A mage that didn’t do magic—the worst kind of paradox. 

The Mage hadn’t been happy about it. (And Simon did let him go from his paralysis, eventually.) He hadn’t done anything about what happened afterwards, besides once threatening once to “launch a new vampire-hunting initiative” if Simon ever “tried something like that again.” Simon didn’t really think he’d do it, but he still hadn’t told Baz that he’d said that. 

Baz. Simon was surprised that he hadn’t taken off after seeing the way Simon had spelled the Mage. They didn’t talk about it really, and Baz had been hesitant around Simon for a few days after, but he was still with Simon. Baz wasn’t afraid of him. (Although, Simon thought that they had some kind of fucked-up solidarity at that point: the all-powerful mage who didn’t use magic and the vampire that didn’t drink human blood. 

Simon still hadn’t told Baz about the truth, that he had control of his powers and that he knew what he was doing when he attacked in the Mage. And he hadn’t told Penny about the entire event. Simon knew that she would definitely know how to fix the situation if he told her the truth, and yet he still kept it from her. 

To tell the truth, Simon wasn’t looking for a solution. He wanted to forget about it entirely. Simon just wanted to forget about the Humdrum and the prophecy and the Chosen One. He just wanted to be a nobody; someone so forgettable that he would vanish from the minds of the minds of the entire World of Mages. (There was probably a spell for that, and, even if there wasn’t, Simon could probably make it happen. But he didn’t want it to happen like that.)

To make matters worse, Simon had no idea what he planned to do after graduation. Simon always thought that he’d work for the Mage, fighting the Humdrum until either he died or it did. But that wasn't going to happen anymore, both because the Mage didn’t trust Simon anymore and because there hadn’t been any Humdrum attacks in a while. There had been a new hole created a few months ago, around the night Simon had attacked the Mage, but there hadn’t been any news since then. Simon felt as if it was taunting him, like they were stuck in a game of chicken. 

Still, with the Humdrum potentially gone, Simon had no plans for his future. Perhaps he would go to a Normal university; there was no such thing for Mages. He could lay low and try his best to avoid making any trouble. He knew that Baz and Penny planned to go to the same local university, so he would be able to leech onto them. 

Because, even with all the shit going on, at least Simon had his friends—and boyfriend. It was the cheesiest thing he could ever say, and it made Simon feel as if he should star in an episode of  _ My Little Pony _ , but it was true. Simon loved his friends with every ounce of his heart. 

His and Penny’s duo had merged with Baz’s friend group, forming a new group of the five of them: Simon, Penny, Baz, Dev, and Niall. Simon always sat with Penny at mealtimes, and Baz couldn’t help but sit with Simon, so Dev and Niall followed suit. And although Simon didn’t know Dev and Niall too well, he still enjoyed their company.

In the end, he and Baz had first decided to come out to the school after the night when the Mage had caught them. At that point, what did they have to be afraid of? It started small, sitting next to each other and talking in public—without arguing. At one point, Baz had taken Simon’s hand while they walked to class. After the initial burst of anxiety, Simon didn’t mind it. He liked the feeling of Baz’s hand in his; the coldness grounding Simon in reality. Soon, it evolved a bit further, with small kisses in the hallways when no one was around. 

There were plenty of stares in the beginning, not really because of the gay thing but because of the “Simon and Baz” thing. Despite all the confusing sexual tension that had been going on in their minds, to any average observer, it seemed like Simon and Baz were the worst of enemies. It was inevitable that there would be confusion at seeing them act friendly around each other, let alone seeing them as a couple.

Simon recalled a particular moment during lunch. He wasn’t sure what he had done, whether that was take Baz’s hand or brush a strand of hair out of Baz’s face, but it had definitely been romantic. Simon looked over, and his gaze caught on someone staring at them. Agatha. She gave him an awkward smile; one that seemed to say, “Obviously, I’m uncomfortable with seeing my ex with someone else, but I guess I’m happy for you,”

Simon gave an awkward nod back. He still felt terrible about the way he and Agatha had parted, and he knew that he should have apologized or done  _ something _ to fix the situation, but what was done was done. At least they had stopped avoiding each other in the halls, and they started saying “hello” when they passed by each other. Their relationship would never be fixed, but at least it didn’t have to be hostile. 

It was funny—well, not funny, it was tragic, but Simon preferred to pretend that it was funny—but Simon had always thought he was going to marry Agatha. But now, that plan was shattered as well. What was left of his future? It had all been prepared to a T, only to be uprooted by a single night. 

But what was it that those inspirational blogs were always saying? Live in the moment, not the past or future. And right then, Simon was in his and Baz’s room, his head on Baz’s lap as he lay on his own bed. Penny was there, too, and Dev and Niall.

It was the night of the leaver’s ball, when all of Watford dressed their best to spend a few hours dancing mindlessly to the latest pop songs. Given Simon’s terrible dancing skills and Baz’s general aversion to being surrounded by a bunch of drunk teenagers, they decided to skip the dance, and the rest of their group agreed.

So, they did the next best thing: ordering a ton of pizza and beer and ironically watching  _ The Bee Movie _ . Simon had taken a sip of Baz’s beer, remarking on how terrible it tasted.

“Simon, do you think anyone drinks beer for the taste?” Penny said, to which everyone in the room laughed, except Simon who felt as if he was missing an integral part of teen culture.

“Okay,” Niall said as the laughter died down, “what I don’t understand is why Barry is getting a job when the male bees don’t work in the hive.”

“Dude, this movie fucking ends with the bees suing the human race, and  _ that’s  _ what you’re worried about?” Dev replied. 

“Wait, what?” Baz interjected.

Simon sat up from his position on Baz’s lap. “Baz, have you never seen  _ The Bee Movie _ before?”

“No, but it doesn’t look like I’ve been missing much.”

“How dare you suggest that  _ The Bee Movie _ is anything but the epitome of American cinema.”

Baz laughed, “I hate you,” and kissed Simon.

Penny groaned, although there was no malice in it, “Get a room, guys, I feel like a fifth wheel in here,” she said, gesturing towards Dev and Niall. “My boyfriend’s all the way in America.”

Simon stopped kissing Baz to reply, “This  _ is _ our room,” to which Penny threw a pillow at him.

They finished the movie, having intermittent conversations about whatever they thought of at the moment. Otherwise, the room sat in a comfortable silence.

They talked until the early hours of the morning (which was fine because they had no classes the next day). Eventually, they felt their eyelids grow heavy, and, too tired to return to their own rooms, Penny, Dev, and Niall fell asleep on Baz’s bed. Simon felt tired too, but he couldn’t go to sleep.

Plagued with thoughts of the future, worsened by the fact that the school year was nearly officially over, Simon tossed and turned, unable to release himself from his mind. Unconsciously, Baz reached his arm around Simon, pulling him closer. Simon thought of all that had happened that year, how it had started just like this: Simon and Baz, sleeping together in Simon’s bed (in both the metaphorical and literal sense of the term.) Except, back then, it had been an agent of conflict; one that led to weeks of avoiding and fighting and anger and tears. 

Now, as Simon listened to the beat of Baz’s heart, he knew that, while things wouldn’t always be okay, at least he wouldn’t have to face it alone. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s all folks!!! I hate reading open-ended, bittersweet endings but boy do I love writing them…
> 
> Well, after 81 days, 25,202 words, and way too many late-night writing frenzies, my first fanfic is finished. I have to admit that I’m not quite satisfied with it. I wanted to do more with Penny and Agatha, I started too many narrative problems that I didn’t quite know how to resolve, and the pacing always seems off to me. But, hey, it’s done, and I had fun writing it. And isn’t that the most important part? 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read, left kudos, bookmarked, and commented. You have no idea how much that means to someone like me, especially when publishing my first work on ao3. This somehow turned from a simple open-ended one-shot to an entire 20,000+ word story, and I couldn’t have done it without your support. 
> 
> I’m getting way too sentimental right now, but forgive me. (It’s 2 AM while I’m writing this, everything is sentimental then.) 
> 
> As for a sequel, who knows? (I’m not trying to be cryptic; I have no immediate plans for a sequel. But I doubt that I’ll be able to leave this story alone forever.)


End file.
